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𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 | angus tully x reader (series finale)
read 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 and 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 first!
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | angus has been waiting to see you again, but the more feelings get involved, the more complicated your affair becomes.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), mega angst but also fluff too, infidelity, boring old people parties, reader is still emotionally constipated and angus still has a breeding kink, but that's honestly it it's just a bunch of emotions so strap in folks!
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Angus was pretty sure he broke some kind of record, with how quickly he ran back to his room after talking to you on the payphone.
He was sure that was exactly what you were picturing him doing— he’d made it pretty clear what he’d do once you hung up, and you’d made it pretty difficult to do anything else with the way you were talking.  You’d been winding him up on purpose, of course; so yes, you could easily imagine him making a mad dash to his room and slamming the door— if you really ever thought about him outside of those phone calls.
That was the thing Angus couldn’t figure out about you.  Well, there were probably a lot of other things than that, but it was the quandary he spent the most time pondering: does she think about me?
Whenever he mustered the courage to ask you something to that effect, you would either change the subject or give a half-answer.  Something about how you had a dream about him the other night or how your parents asked about him— never what he was really asking.
But, frankly, at that moment as he shut his dorm room door and jumped into bed, whether or not you thought about him much was not as pertinent an issue.  Right then, all he could think about was getting his hand around his raging boner; his mind was just playing everything you’d said to him over the phone on repeat.
I’m touching myself right now, you’d whispered in a sultry voice, I’m so wet, Angus— fuck, I’m so wet…
He’d never had to work so hard to keep a straight face on the phone before… he figured if anyone was really looking, they’d notice how red he was turning or how he kept shifting uncomfortably.  And he told you just as much, which of course only encouraged you.  Don’t want them to know, huh? you’d taunted. Don’t want the other boys to find out you’re listening to me get off?
And no, he didn’t— you were such a precious thing, the boys here didn’t even deserve to imagine you— but when you offered to stop if it was too distracting, he only found himself shakily begging for more.
As he quickly opened his khaki pants and gripping his cock, he hissed through his teeth; his ego could barely take all you’d said about that cock, about how thick and ‘perfect’ (you used that exact word, perfect, and he thought he might float) it was, about how you wished you could come around it right then instead of your fingers.
“It’s all yours,” he mumbled to himself, under his breath, not even really noticing he was saying it aloud.  “You want it, baby?  It’s all fucking yours.”
He groaned as he stroked himself, the precum that had been leaking from his tip for a while making everything even easier.  Shutting his eyes tight, he pictured you, like he always did: all of you, everything, anything he could remember.
You ever think about me? you’d asked him over the phone— and he’d blurted out his always before he even realized you meant while he was getting off.  It was still true, but more specific than necessary.  He craved to hear you say it: I think about you too.  But he didn’t ask, and you just went back to moaning while you rubbed your clit— which, apparently, was already swollen and throbbing— and, well, he wasn’t strong enough to interrupt that.
“Fuck,” he grunted, deep in the back of his throat, finally letting his pace pick up until his hand was a blur: after all that anticipation and all that waiting, there was no use trying to hold back now.  It wasn’t like you were here to worry about him coming too fast, even though you’d still maintained you found it endearing when it happened.
He repeated your voice in his head, the moment that had made him worry he would blow his load in his trousers before he could even get off the phone and back to his room: I’m gonna come for you, you’d warned him in the most beautiful moaning voice, Angus— I want you so bad, oh god— I’m gonna come for you, fuck…
His lip caught between his teeth, his hips rocked up into his own palm.  “Yes, fuck, baby,” he panted, “I— fuck!”
He tried to conjure in his mind how it had felt to come inside you, but he knew even his vivid imagination could never really capture the feeling; nothing could even come close.  Still, remembering it and letting himself indulge in his strangest fantasies for just a moment sent him over the edge.  His face flushed suddenly as he came in long, heavy pulses, the back of his free hand falling over his open mouth yet doing little to suppress his moans.
It was intense— it was certainly better than his orgasms usually were when brought on by himself— but it only satisfied him for a moment.  The moment he was finished, with a deep breath in and his hips relaxing back down onto the mattress, he wanted more— he wanted you.
His heavy eyes glanced to the side, trying to remember what it felt like to lie next to you.  He’d never felt lonely after jerking off before he met you; now getting off seemed to bring a new wave of heartbreak each time.
When he shook off the thought and looked down at himself, he frowned as he realized he’d ruined his own shirt doing that— not that he could fully bring himself to regret it.
No, his regrets only really began a few weeks later, when the nagging loneliness in the back of his mind finally got the better of him.
It was the middle of the night when he wrote it, after he woke up from a dream of you that he just couldn’t shake from his mind.  After checking that his roommate was fast asleep, Angus carefully slipped out of bed and tip-toed to the desk, and pulling out a box of cards and envelopes from one of the drawers.  (He thought he’d never use them when his mom sent them with him at the beginning of the year, but a lot had changed since then.)
Something about the ungodly hour made him more honest— or maybe just more shameless.  He wrote a frantic ramble, everything he’d wanted to say to you that he’d never had the courage to blurt out over the phone; all the feelings he’d felt since that incredible night in the backseat of your car, which he’d assumed would fade… which he’d tried to convince himself would fade.
Unfortunately, even the adrenaline of writing down the thoughts of you he’d been poring over for over a month wasn’t enough to overpower exhaustion: he awoke the next morning slumped over the desk, the pen still uncapped and fallen a few inches from his hand, the letter left folded open.
He awoke to the sound of someone’s door shutting down the hall, specifically; jumping and blinking quickly, he looked at the window— it was morning, though still quite early— and then at his roommate who was, thank god, still asleep.
Angus looked back at the letter in front of him, only making out a few words in his brief glance, before his cheeks began to heat up and he quickly folded it shut.  As more footsteps moved through the hall, the boy in the bed nearby stirred and grumbled to himself, and Angus quickly snatched up the letter and shoved it in his book bag before he was caught red-handed.
Ironically, that little commotion was what actually got the other boy’s attention.  “What are you doing at the desk?” he asked groggily, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his palm.
“Oh, I, uh— I had to do some late night cramming,” Angus explained nervously, “that big Geography test coming up and all…”
The half-awake boy seemed to notice for a moment that the story didn’t really make sense, on account of the empty desk, but he simply shrugged and tossed his blanket aside to get up as well.
For the rest of the day, Angus couldn’t think straight— and not just because of his mediocre rest and achy back from the absolutely terrible sleep posture he’d had.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the letter, even if he honestly couldn’t remember for certain everything he’d said… he couldn’t stop wondering if he should send it to you.  He almost didn’t want to read it again first— he wanted you to read it in its most authentic state, he wanted to mail it before he chickened out just like he had when you said you two could just stay casual.  Even if it made his heart race and his palms especially clammy, Angus decided in the middle of that goddamned Geography test that he was going to mail that letter tonight after dinner: he was finally just going to man up and tell you.
Of course, something went horribly wrong along the way: he made a fatal mistake.  Looking back on it, he couldn’t tell for certain if his mistake was falling for you in the first place, or writing the infamous letter, or shoulder-checking Kountze without holding on tight enough to his bag.
The argument that happened beforehand was petty and forgettable, even if it gathered a small crowd of Kountze’s friends, but it ended with Angus trying to walk away a tad… aggressively, and with Kountze grabbing him by the strap of his bag which not only knocked Angus off-balance but spilled the contents onto the floor of the dorm’s shared room.
Everyone saw the books and papers hit the ground; everyone saw the off-white cardstock land right on top.  Angus reached for the letter quickly, but Kountze beat him there, and held it back with a snicker.
“Well, well,” Kountze tutted proudly, “what’s this?”
“H-hey, don’t read that,” Angus warned, hoping the seriousness of his tone would somehow affect the other boy— but, obviously, it did not.  Kountze started to open it and Angus instantly made a dive for it, only to be stopped by three other students who apparently were curious as well about the letter.  “Don’t fucking read that!” Angus demanded.
“Oh god, it’s to a girl!” he realized.  “Do you have a girlfriend, Tully?”
“I swear to god, Kountze, if you fucking read that—”
“I miss you,” Kountze began to read aloud as Angus thrashed around to try to stop him, “I miss you so much I don’t even know what to say.”
The boys holding Angus back were enraptured as Kountze read the letter; “Do you guys pay this much attention in class?” he mocked them, though they were ignoring him completely as they waited for the other boy to keep reading.
“I feel like I can’t breathe without you— aw, Tully, you’re a poet,” Kountze mocked with a smile.  Angus’ heart raced as he remembered what part of the letter came next.  “Not a day goes by where I don’t think about you and your smile— Jesus, this is some really sappy shit— or what it’s like talking with you for hours, or how it feels—”
He stopped, and Angus froze, and after a moment the group of boys started demanding the conclusion.  “What— what does it say?!” “Read it, Kountze!”
“How it feels to be inside you,” Kountze continued with wide eyes, staring at Angus’ bright red face as the other boys began to react loudly.
Angus renewed his struggle against the kids holding him back, but even though he was taller than them, he was severely outnumbered.  “Stop— that’s personal!” Angus demanded to no avail.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to my hand after having you,” Kountze continued with a laugh.  “From what I hear from your roommate, Tully, your hand is treating you just fine.”
“Shut up,” Angus hissed, but his words had lost their bite as his humiliation grew.
“I should’ve told you before I left—” he started, but finally Angus found some new strength within himself to shake off the boys holding him back: he dove at Kountze and took him down, scrambling to snatch the card away.  He was going to be satisfied with just that, but of course Kountze still had to open his mouth, even when Angus had him pinned.  “Jesus, Tully,” he scoffed, “how ugly is this chick that you got her to sleep with you?”
Angus brought a fist swiftly down to Kountze’s nose, who groaned in pain and held his face as Angus got up and ran away.  The other boys let him pass, thankfully, and Angus wasted no time getting to his room and slamming the door behind him.
Defiantly wiping a tear from his cheek, Angus took a quick look at the letter— wrinkled, stained and scuffed from the fight with Kountze— and crumpled it up, tossing it into his wastebasket before throwing himself onto his bed and hiding his head under the pillow.
He was stupid to even write it, let alone consider sending it; it was no use, you obviously didn’t feel the same way about him that he did about you.  You were the one who said it should just be what it was— a fling.  But Angus felt like he’d been flung directly into hell, the way it tore into his chest to imagine you didn’t really want him.
Even if he never read the letter again that day, he remembered how it ended— and it was the part he couldn’t get out of his mind even when he wanted more than anything to forget it all.
Is this what love feels like?
//
It reminded you a lot of that dinner over Christmas break, except somehow, it seemed like he was staring at you even more.  Shouldn’t he have gotten that out of his system a bit by now?
But then again, maybe you should’ve been more used to it, since it had been over an hour of picking away at this quail dinner, and he’d barely taken his eyes off of you.  Something about him looked different; it was basically impossible that he could’ve visibly aged in just a couple months, and yet he seemed like he was carrying just a bit more age on those thin shoulders.  Maybe it was just the slight five-o-clock shadow over his jaw— but, no, there was a different look in his eyes, too—
Realizing you were, in fact, staring back at him, you quickly snapped your gaze back down to your plate.
You’d been wanting a chance to talk to him before this dinner, to hopefully prevent exactly this issue, but once the dinner ended you found yourself avoiding him.  Of course you weren’t ready to talk to him— of course you had a million thoughts in your head and half of them didn’t even make sense.
For once, you actually tried to talk to all of your parents’ snooty friends, repeating the same answers over and over about how you were going to graduate school in the fall and how you were looking forward to your family’s Paris trip in the summer and all that jazz.  It was worth it to keep Angus off your back for a moment, even if you could still feel his eyes boring into said back from time to time.
Midway through a mind-numbingly boring conversation (if something so one-sided could be called a conversation) with the Gordons about renovations they’d done on their summer house, you glanced around the room over your shoulder and noticed that Angus was apparently absent.  His parents were still there, sitting on a couch— that is, his mom and stepdad— so he couldn’t be far, but out of view he was far enough.  Figuring he’d gone to the kitchen or the restroom, you figured it was the perfect time to disappear into the downstairs bedroom and, hopefully, hide out for the rest of the party.  Excusing yourself quickly, you made a polite dash for the other end of the room.
And yet, somehow, he appeared out of thin air; as you turned down the hallway, only a dim lamp on an antique credenza lighting your way, you heard Angus’ hushed voice behind you.  He laid his hand on your shoulder, and the moment you turned to face him, he was on you— his weight pressed you into the wall and you felt trapped in a way that was annoyingly pleasant.
“God, I missed you,” he breathed, kissing you hard and sudden; you whimpered a little, nearly melting into it, before you pushed him back at his shoulders.
“A-Angus, wait,” you sighed.  “You, um… you didn’t call for a while.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, “um, I’m sorry— I just got busy with midterms and stuff— but I really wanted to!”
He moved like he was about to kiss you again, but you kept your hand on his chest to keep him away.  “I wanted to tell you…” you trailed off.
“Tell me what?”
“You remember Brian Stevenson?” 
“Oh— um, yeah, I guess so,” Angus frowned a little, clearly confused by what seemed like a non sequitur.  “I used to go over to his house when I was little, although it was just to play with his little brother, but… yeah, I remember him.”
“I’ve been sorta, y’know… going with him,” you explained, hesitantly meeting Angus’ gaze just in time to see the most terrible sadness cover his face.
“O-oh,” he choked out, quickly stepping back from you and shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah…” you mumbled, twisting your loafer-clad foot on the carpet nervously.  “It’s just, you know, he asked me out a couple weeks ago, and ever since then—”
“So is he, like, your boyfriend?” Angus pressed.  You nodded.  He looked away.  “Right— that’s… cool.  That’s cool.”
You bit your lip slightly, hating that he wouldn’t look at you all of a sudden.  “Angus, it’s just that, you know, we said—”
“Right,” he interrupted sharply.  “Right, I remember what we said— what you said, that we weren’t— you know.  That it wasn’t anything.”
“I didn’t say that—” you tried to correct him.
“You said you were mine,” he added suddenly, making your eyes widen.  “Did you even mean that?”
“I— Angus, come on,” you laughed nervously.  “That’s… that’s just something people say…”
He scoffed, and looked to the side as he pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek; contempt looked sort of good on him, you thought, except that it was directed at you.  He was trying to hide it, but his eyes were watering.
“I’m sorry,” you began but he cut you off right away.
“No, don’t do that,” he shook his head quickly, crossing his arms and staring down at the floor.  “Don’t lie to me anymore.”
“No— I really am,” you tried to assure.
“Hey, it’s fine,” he insisted sharply.  “It’s— you know, it is what it is.  It was just one of those things.”
“If it’s fine, then look at me,” you pleaded.  He didn’t.  And for a long moment, the two of you stood there, still and silent.
“It’s fine,” he repeated softly, turning on his heel.
“Angus, wait,” you hissed, not wanting to raise your voice with all the guests not too far away— of course, it was fruitless, and he briskly blended back in with the crowd.
Sighing, you dropped your head into your hands.  That wasn’t how you ever wanted this to go, you never wanted to hurt him; honestly, you’d assumed he’d be irritated, but not… sad.  Not devastated.  Of course he would prefer to be getting laid, but you figured he wouldn’t have too much trouble finding some other girl to screw around with— sometimes, you’d wondered if he already had.
It was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be casual, it was supposed to be fun.  You couldn’t think of anything you’d ever done, or anything you’d ever felt, that was less fun than this.
//
It made a strange sort of sense that the next time you saw him was at another party.  Of course, this party was entirely different from the last one: for one, it was hosted by your boyfriend, and there sure as hell wasn’t any quail.  There was a lot more alcohol, though.
You were hanging off to the side, not feeling quite up for mixing in with the crowd as they danced to the record Brian had put on.  Even if they spared you from the same boring questions that your parents’ friends bombarded you with, they were uninteresting in their own way as every conversation seemed to come back to politics or pot.
Brian startled you a bit by coming up beside you, resting his hand on the small of your back.  “Hey,” he greeted, and you smiled up at him.  Your eyes lingered on his face— he looked… grown up.  It was probably just because he had a beard; he certainly didn’t always act grown up, but overall, Brian was perfectly acceptable.  He’d asked you out, he’d actually had the bravery for that, so that was a great head start.
You tried to shake the thought out of your mind, looking away from him; it wasn’t a head start because this wasn’t a race.  Who, after all, would he be racing against?
For some reason, your eyes turned to the front door— and you bit your lip as you saw Angus coming inside, slipping off his coat and looking around the room (for you, presumably).  He looked even more haggard than before: a little pale, eyes sunken and dark, and he definitely hadn’t shaved since you saw him.
Brian looked to find where you were staring, and frowned slightly.  “Who’s that?” he asked.
“Oh, um— Angus Tully, his parents are friends with mine, I used to babysit him when he was a kid.”
You knew that wasn’t really what he was asking, so you weren’t surprised when he got to the point more directly: “What’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, hoping Brian wouldn’t somehow figure out that your heart was racing.
Brian’s hand moved up to your shoulder and gave it a squeeze, just as Angus noticed you and hurriedly shoved his way through the crowd to come face-to-face with you.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice raspy and hurried as he took a quick glance at Brian in his peripheral.
“Um— sure,” you agreed awkwardly, not sure which answer would be less suspicious.  Of course, when you glanced at Brian, he just looked mildly annoyed— bored, even.  You realized in that moment that you didn’t need to worry about him suspecting you and Angus of anything, because he barely registered Angus’ existence: he certainly wouldn’t acknowledge him as some kind of sexual threat.
“Privately,” Angus added— and that actually got Brian’s attention, though he seemed more aware of your discomfort than anything.
“Anything you wanna say to her, you can say in front of me,” Brian assured firmly, and Angus swallowed anxiously— it was obvious from the bob of his Adam’s apple.
“Actually, uh, somebody was looking for you out front,” Angus told him.  “Something about a keg getting delivered to the wrong house?”
“Shit,” Brian hissed, dropping his hand from your shoulder and looking towards the door again.  “Fucking idiots…”
Having made quick work of Brian, Angus put his attention back on you.  “Let’s go outside,” he suggested.
“W-we can just talk here,” you tried to say, but he was already grabbing your wrist and guiding you out; why did your heart still skip when he touched you?
Once he’d taken you through the kitchen and out to the back porch— where you could still hear the music and chatter, but it was much quieter— you spoke.
“Angus, I really am sorry about— you know— but you can’t just—” you started.
“It’s not over yet,” he insisted, surprising you with his intensity; you leaned back against the wooden railing, and he stood just a little too close with those dark brown eyes piercing through you.
“If you tell me you’re happy with Brian, I’ll leave you alone,” Angus decided, puffing up his chest a bit.
“I’m happy with Brian,” you said sternly.
A brief moment passed.  “Okay, I lied,” Angus admitted.
“Jesus,” you hissed.
“But only because I don’t believe you!” he explained.  “We were so good together.”
“Yeah, we were,” you admitted, “but… it’s over now.”
“No— it’s not.  It can’t be!” he insisted with a whine, and you scoffed as you shook your head.
“Angus, you’re being childish,” you scolded.
“Oh, don’t say that,” he grimaced.  “Don’t hold that against me— I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Of course you’re not— but you’re not thinking clearly.”
“Damn right I’m not!” he spat.  “You’re all I could think about, for months!  Months, I couldn’t fucking get you out of my head!  And not just the, you know, the dirty stuff— everything.  Every moment I spent with you, every dumb thing we talked about for hours, every time you laughed at one of my shitty jokes—”
“Angus, please,” you breathed, glancing down; you could only take so much of this, and you worried he was figuring that out.
“Does he make you laugh?” Angus pressed, stepping a bit closer to you.  “Does he make you feel special?  Does he make you come?”
“Yes,” you said sharply, “he’s great, okay?  I’m happy— so please just stop fucking this up for me.”
“Okay, fine,” he conceded, “you’re happy, I believe you.  But… but what about me, y’know?  He doesn’t need you like I do.”
Your face warmed up and you crossed your arms tighter, staring down at the ground.
“Of course he likes you— who wouldn’t?  But he couldn’t even imagine how I feel about you— how long I’ve been thinking about you.  I mean, I’ve wanted you since I was a kid!  You’re my dream girl!”
“That’s— that has nothing to do with me,” you tried to explain.  “That’s a fantasy!”
“But it’s real, baby,” he sighed, bringing his hands up to gently hold your arms at either side.  “It’s so real, you know it is.”
You didn’t even have the heart to deny it— or to tell him not to call you that.  You knew if you looked up at him, you wouldn’t be able to fight him anymore; he must’ve known that, too, because he delicately lifted your chin until you met his gaze.
And then he kissed you: tender, sweet, and shameless.  He didn’t care if anyone saw, if anyone knew— even Brian.  You, on the other hand, still cared enough to try to stop him; but even you couldn’t resist a kiss like this, and you found your hands pulling him closer as quickly as they’d tried to push him away.
He took you home, without another word about what this meant or where you stood with each other.  You snuck him into your room and he climbed into bed with you and he touched you like he’d been waiting a lot longer than just a few months for this moment.  Frankly, you were beginning to realize that you’d been waiting a lot longer for this, too.
Before, Angus had always been talkative during sex— sometimes annoyingly so.  But this time, he didn’t say a damn thing; neither of you did.  And yet, somehow, just by the way he looked at you, just by the way he held you, just by the way he moved inside you... you felt like you heard more than you ever had.
//
You sat next to each other on the bench, staring forward into the dark treeline ahead— there was still a layer of frost around their roots, and a new snow had begun to fall even if it wasn’t cold enough for it to stick on the pavement.  You tried not to look at him too long, in case it made this any harder, but you did appreciate that he seemed a bit more put together than he had the last time you went a few days without seeing him.  He was clean-shaven, too… is it wrong that you kinda missed the stubble?
“Thanks for, you know… giving me a couple days to think about it,” you mumbled, and he nodded.
“I thought you might have somewhere better to be on a Friday night,” he said— trying to lighten the mood a bit, you could tell; trying to make you comfortable.
“Well, even if I did, I think this needs to be done,” you explained, and he pressed his lips together a bit.
He waited patiently, though, for you to break the silence and explain yourself, even if he didn’t seem too surprised when you did it.
“It was a mistake,” you decided.  “It was great, but it was a mistake— and I’d really appreciate if we could just… let it go.  And if you didn’t tell Brian.”
“Okay,” he nodded slowly.  “I wasn’t gonna tell him.  But I still think you should dump him.”
“Well, that’s my decision,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.
“I know,” he breathed.
You could already tell, just by the way the next silence began, that he was going to interrupt it with something stupid… you just never expected how stupid.
“The thing is— I love you,” he blurted out suddenly, turning to look at you again as your eyes widened.  “I fucking love you.”
“Angus, I— you can’t—!” you choked out, but he continued before you could try to think of a response.
“I know I do— don’t say I don’t know what that is, or that I’m too young or something stupid like that,” he pleaded.  “I know how I feel, okay?  When you miss somebody this much, when you think about somebody this much— what else could love be, but that?”
You sighed, looking away, and he moved closer to you on the bench.  Even if you knew it was preposterous that someone else would be in the park at the end of the street at this time of night, you still fought the urge to look over your shoulder.
“Don’t tell me I’m crazy,” he breathed.  “You love me too, don’t you?  I mean— I thought you basically forgot I existed, but last night… that sort of thing doesn’t just happen, does it?  It’s not… it’s not usually like that.”
“No, it’s not,” you admitted, “that was different.”
He perked up, smiling wide when you looked at him again.  “Just say it,” he begged, “say you love me too— ‘cause I know you do.”
“I— Angus, it’s more complicated than that,” you explained.  “We’re still— there’s Brian, for one thing… we can’t really go on like this, you know that.”
“I know— I don’t want to keep doing this.  I want to really be together,” he replied.  You tried to turn your body away from his slightly, but he grabbed your hands and held them tight until you looked at him again.  “I’m almost done with high school— I’ll go to college where you’re going for grad school!”
You shook your head.  “No, you can’t do that.”
“Just think about it: us, together— we could actually go on real dates, and go to college parties together, and, like, study out at the library— or, you know, whatever you college kids do,” he fantasized.  You smiled, but shook your head again.
“We… we can’t do that,” you denied.
He frowned, and turned away from you, staring darkly at the ground.  “I knew it,” he mumbled, shaking his head.  “You’re embarrassed— you’re ashamed of me.”
“What?!” you blurted out.  “Angus, no—”
“It’s okay,” he said in a terribly unconvincing way, crossing his arms.  “I don’t blame you: I’m just some dumb kid from your hometown.  You want a guy your age— not some random freshman… you want something better.”
“That’s bullshit,” you replied instantly, “you can do so much better.”
“C’mon, I’ll never do better than you,” he insisted.
Even though he’d misunderstood you, your heart still swelled a bit at the compliment.  “I meant for college, Angus,” you explained, and he deflated a little.  “You can do a lot better than a state school.”
“Well, I, um… I don’t know if I can,” he admitted nervously.  “My grades are kinda… inconsistent.  And I went to so many different high schools—”
“Who gives a shit?” you scoffed.  “You’re fucking smart— way smarter than anybody else here.  You act like an idiot sometimes, but you’re eighteen, it kinda comes with the territory.”
He frowned, but couldn’t exactly deny it.
“You deserve to go somewhere amazing,” you told him.  “You need to go somewhere amazing— and do something amazing.”
For a long moment, he just stared out into the dark; until, suddenly, he whipped his head back around at you with a quizzical look on his face.  “Wait— is that what this is all about?”
“What?”
“Do you not want to be with me because you think you’d, like, hold me back or something?” he accused.
You blinked quickly; something about the way he said be with me caught you off-guard— like it was a term much more mature than you had expected from him.  Instead of answering directly, you just stammered.  “Well, y-you’re young, and—” 
He cut you off quickly with a laugh.  “Oh my god!  You think I give a shit about that?”
“No,” you shot back, “but you should.  You realize how fucking dumb it would be to change your whole life for the first person you ever slept with?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds dumb,” he admitted, looking down at his feet swinging over the edge.  “But what if it’s somebody that, you know, you think you really have a shot with?  What if it’s somebody that you feel like you can’t live without?  Somebody that makes you finally get all those songs you hear on the radio—”
“It only feels like this to you because you’ve never felt anything else,” you explained gently.  “It’s your first love.  It fades.”
“But I don’t want it to,” he said instantly, looking at you with the most heartbreaking eyes you’d ever seen.  “God, I don’t want it to.”
You looked up at him as his hand brushed over your face, and felt tears welling before you could fight them off; he kissed you, in a way that you thought he might have never really kissed you before.  In a way nobody had kissed you before, in fact.  It wasn’t very long, but it felt like it might as well have gone on forever.
When he broke away, he kept his eyes shut, and he pressed his forehead to yours as his thumb stroked your cheek.  “Tell me it doesn’t have to end,” he breathed, “please.  Tell me it’s not going to end.”
“It has to,” you whispered back, watching his shoulders sink and bringing your hand up to clutch at his chest.  “It has to end, someday.”
You took a shaky breath, watching a tear fall from his jaw onto your arm, feeling everything you’d held back finally breaking through as your grip on shirt tightened and your lip began to quiver.
“But it doesn’t have to be tonight,” you sighed.
Gasping with relief and joy simultaneously, he kissed you again, and pulled you closer at your waist, and wrapped you up in his arms tightly.
There was, of course, this nagging voice at the back of your mind— that maybe it didn’t have to end.  And god, you wanted to silence that thought permanently if you could, because it had never done you any good.  That hope had only ever led to pain before.  But, without it, nothing would ever really have a chance: if you weren’t willing to risk the heartache, you’d never let yourself love Angus the way that he deserved and the way that you knew, deep down, you already did.
So, as he kissed you that way you thought people only kissed in movies, and whispered to you those words you thought people only said because they were poets and dreamers, you realized that maybe it didn’t have to end someday.  Maybe he would spend the next several years of your lives convincing you that you didn’t need to protect yourself from your own feelings.  Maybe he would actually have the patience to break down walls he never built, to fix wounds he didn’t leave.  Maybe he was ready to give you something to believe in, something worth taking risks for while you were still young and reckless.  Maybe he, like the oncoming equinox, would melt your ice so new life could grow.
Or, maybe, this feeling he had really would fade once he gained a little more life experience; maybe you would make too many mistakes for him to forgive.  Maybe you would always be friends, or maybe you would have too much history to be able to see each other again.  Maybe you would grow apart— maybe you would have to brace yourself for that, to sit next to him on a cold dorm room mattress as you both realized it just wasn’t working anymore.
The most important thing that you realized in that moment— that eternal moment in his arms, in the dark, in the last snow of Spring— was that it didn’t matter.  It didn’t have to be forever to be perfect; it didn’t have to be the ending to be beautiful.  He loved you.  Even if you were still trying to figure out why, he loved you; and that was true, and real, and special.  His love couldn’t fix you, but it made you feel fixable, and you hadn’t seen yourself that way in a long time— you could only dream that you might see yourself the way he saw you.
When you pulled back from the kiss for a moment, you smiled wide— you laughed, actually— and sniffled as he wiped your tears away.  “I love you,” you told him, and even though he kissed you again, you didn’t stop saying it.  You wanted to keep it on your lips until it didn’t scare you anymore; you wanted to keep your heart open, even if it made you vulnerable, maybe because it made you vulnerable.  After all, you couldn’t ever be sure it wouldn’t come back to bite you… if you could, it wouldn’t mean anything.
Even though all you said to him was I love you, each one meant something a bit different.  I trust you.  I’m not sure I’m ready, but I’m going to try.  I’m sorry.  I’m so glad I met you.  I’ll never forget you.  Please don’t let me go.
Somehow, you felt like he heard each one.  Each time he told you that he loved you, though, you heard the same thing: I won’t let you go, ever.
//
Easter Mass was relatively pleasant, if a little too long.  You did notice Angus sitting with his family, across the aisle and a few rows back, but you only gave him a quick wave before the service started and managed to resist glancing back at him after that.
The best part of Easter was always afterwards, though: you stood at the furthest end of the lawn, in front of the ivy-covered exterior wall of the chapel, as children ran around snatching up colorful eggs to collect for their baskets.  Even if it was totally stupid, and irrelevant to the actual message of the holiday that the priest had just spent the whole service hammering in, you got a kick out of the fancy clothes and tiny dress shoes, the squeals of delight, the candy and toys in bright pastels.  You were just thankful the weather had warmed up in the nick of time for all the festivities— indoor egg hunts never have quite the same effect.
Angus sauntered up beside you, sipping on a styrofoam cup of complimentary coffee, and you didn’t even look at each other, but you both smiled.
“They’re cute,” he stated after a little while.
“Yeah,” you agreed.
“Do you wanna have a kid?” he asked, and you gave him a hesitant glance only to find him looking right back at you— his expression was friendly, but neutral enough that you couldn’t read if he meant having a kid with him or just, you know, in general.
Deciding it must be the second one, you let out a soft, nervous laugh.  “Uh, I dunno… maybe someday,” you offered, as non-committal as possible.
“How about right now?” he challenged, lowering his voice slightly, but not enough to stop you from glancing around to make sure nobody heard.
“Angus, fucking Christ,” you coughed.  “Don’t joke about that.”
“I’m not,” he shrugged.  “I mean, maybe I’m not being literal, but that doesn’t mean I’m not being serious.”
“Well… we can’t,” you mumbled, looking out at the lawn again, hoping not to stand out too much.  “Not here.”
“I know, I know,” he agreed, and the two of you fell back into a silence— an oddly comfortable one, even.  You crossed your arms as you watched the kids run around and he kept sipping on his coffee.  After a few moments, though, you spoke again.
“Meet you in the Sunday school room in the West wing in five minutes?”
“Yup,” he said, already turning to leave.  You smiled slightly to yourself, glancing down at your white shoes planted in the grass.  Even on such a delicately-manicured lawn, wildflowers were already springing up— little periwinkle diamonds scattered here and there.
When what felt like a reasonable amount of time passed, you made your careful and casual exit from the egg hunt to slip back inside.  Once you were away from the crowds and on your way to meet Angus, you couldn’t stop yourself from running… and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, either.
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𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | angus tully x reader
sequel to 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲, won't really make much sense without reading that!
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | holiday break can only last so long, but angus wants this to be more than a fling-- and you, as much as you want to deny it, already know it's more than a fling. the question remains if either one of you will admit it.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.3k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public sex, breeding kink, very inappropriate activities in a church, secret relationship, a wee bit of angst and fluff at the end!
part 3 coming soon!
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“Fuck, I don’t wanna go back,” he groaned, dropping his head defeatedly into the crook of your neck.  “I never wanna go back to that horrible fucking school.”
“I guess you’ll just see me at Easter break then, huh?” you purred, grazing your teeth over his ear.
“You know, if sex with you keeps lining up with the Catholic calendar, it’s gonna give me a complex or something,” he noticed.
“Oh, I can do better than that,” you beamed.  “Next time you see me at Mass, I won’t be wearing any panties.  And you’ll be the only other one who knows.”
He perked up again, balancing himself over you with bent arms against the mattress.  “I swear, you’re a dream come true.  A really fucked up dream I had after seeing a porno mag or something.”
You laughed, but it was cut off with him pulling you into another kiss— sweet and slow, with both of you smiling against each other.  With your limbs tangled together under the sheets, you melted together into your bed; and no, none of it really seemed real yet.  Every time this happened, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were hooking up with Angus Tully.  Frankly, you were sort of trying not to think about it, at least not too much.  If you really tried, you could look at his face and see the little kid you babysat all those years ago, and it just made you feel sort of awful about it… yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.
Your smile fell into a gasp when he started to kiss your neck, his hands guiding your back as it arched slightly.  When he pressed his body against yours, you felt him getting hard against your leg, and you groaned softly.
“Fuck, Angus, again?” you whined.  “We already went twice—”
“I’m leaving in two days,” he explained, “I need you as many times as I can get away with it.”
You wanted to protest, say something about how sore you were or about how he needed to leave and go back home before someone noticed he was gone— but his slender fingers were already diving between your legs and making you just moan instead.
“See?  You’re wet already,” he noticed with a playful mockery to his tone.  “I’ve gotta take care of you, baby…”
Oh, you couldn’t stand it when he talked like that— when he made you feel so vulnerable to him, so paradoxically submissive.  When this started a couple weeks back, it was the other way around: you were the cool, older woman with all the power.  You told him what you wanted and he was more than happy to oblige, never questioning you— he was obedient, basically.  But once you’d had a few more encounters, he realized that you wanted him just as badly… that he could make you desperate, if he wanted.  Once he’d had the smallest taste of control, he was suddenly a changed man; now, he loved to tease and taunt you, see how far he could push you, even once he made you beg— and you expected you’d never get to live that down. 
He watched your face with a mischievous smile as he slowly slid two fingers into you, watching the way you winced and then relaxed.  “I’ll be careful,” he promised, “I know you’re all sensitive still… thought you might wake up the whole house with that last one.”
You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed, remembering how he’d had to cover your mouth with his hand when he made you come.  These were issues you hadn’t considered much before, since you spent most of the year living in a dorm where you didn’t really care if anyone heard what you were up to.  Staying in your parents’ house again— and secretly fucking their friends’ son in your childhood bedroom— posed new challenges to say the least.
You gasped when his fingers curled inside you, rubbing that spot that made everything clench for a moment.  “Mm,” he observed encouragingly, “like that?”
“Yes,” you hissed under your breath.  Just when you began to let your eyes fall shut, they shot open when he added a third finger inside you.  “Fuck!” 
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he scolded, “you can fit three fingers just fine— my cock’s bigger than all that anyways.”
He twisted the fingers inside you as your hips rocked, shivers running over your skin.  “Yeah, but still— fuck, it’s a lot…”
“You take it just fine,” he assured.  “You take whatever I give you, huh?”
“Sh-shut up,” you whimpered, and he laughed softly.
“You’re so good for me,” he continued anyways, making you bite your lip in hopes he wouldn’t notice his effect on you.  Whenever he said stuff like that, you just wanted to ask him who the fuck he thought he was— it made you want to shove him off of you and pin him down, remind him of his place.  But you never did, because letting him take control always felt so damn good…
His head dipped down a bit under the covers— and his lips latched onto one of your nipples, making you gasp and grab his hair with one of your hands.  “Oh god— yes,” you praised, shuddering a bit as he suckled hard on the bud.
He moaned around it, his free hand holding the other breast and keeping you down even when your back longed to arch deeper.  “You get so wet when I do this,” he noticed as he pulled away briefly, moving to suck the other for a moment as his fingers gently pumped into you.  When he pushed them in all the way to the knuckle, at the same time that his tongue swirled around your nipple just right, your patience finally gave in.
“Just fuck me,” you begged, tugging harder on his curls as you felt him smile against your skin.  “God, I just— fuck—”
He pulled away from your breast with a pop and a grin.  “Just ask nicely, baby, and I’m all yours.”
“I know you want to, just fuck me,” you growled, but he shook his head and you clenched your jaw.
“You can say it,” he encouraged, “just use the magic word.”
You rolled your eyes, hating the juvenile way of describing it, but his fingers were still moving inside you and you just needed it too bad— “Please,” you breathed.  “Please fuck me.”
“There you go,” he praised, slowly pulling his drenched fingers out of you and moving his hips to line up with yours instead.  He was so hard; you were almost impressed with his resolve, though at the moment you were mostly just annoyed with it.  “Look up at me,” he demanded, making you meet his gaze before he pushed himself inside you.
It was almost too intense, looking right into his eyes as he thrust into you carefully— you bit your lip, watching the heavy sigh of relief leave him as he filled you.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes scanning all over your face and watching your expression change as he pressed his cock as deep as possible.  “You’re fucking perfect.”
You didn’t really believe that, but you at least would concede that this moment was perfect.
You held tighter onto him, legs wrapping around his hips, as he leaned in closer and moaned against your neck.  “How am I supposed to leave when you feel this fucking good?” he groaned lowly, and you felt yourself already beginning to pulse inside as you moved closer to the edge.  “I feel good too, right?”
Poor thing— if only he knew that it was his own fault you withheld praise, just because he sounded too precious when he asked you for reassurance like that.  He was really fucking talkative, way more than you expected; sometimes you thought if you didn’t say anything, he’d just go off on these wild tangents about how bad he needs you.  “You feel good,” you replied, trying to keep it a little vague so he’d ask for more.
“How good?” he asked with a grin, and you smiled, too, because he was wonderfully predictable sometimes.
“So good,” you cooed, “so fucking good that I’m gonna come way too fast.”
“Hey, that’s my thing,” he joked.  His stamina had definitely increased a lot in just a few encounters, but he still had a habit of coming quickly if you got him a bit too riled up.  Not that you really minded… it was still cute, after all, and he usually made it up to you one way or another.
He picked up his pace, letting out a low moan against your ear.  “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he ordered, panting with each quick thrust.
“Fuck, Angus, I want you come,” you replied, whispering against his ear.  “I want you to fill me—”
“Fuck…”
“And put all your come so deep in me—”
“Fuck, baby,” he whined again.  “I’m so fucking close.”
You whined, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling your chest get tighter as you moved closer to the edge.
“Tell me you want me to breed you,” he added; okay, so much for predictable…
“Wh-what?” you choked, feeling suddenly hot all over.  “Angus, I—”
“I know, you won’t,” he soothed, “it’s just, you know, pretend… just say you want it, please.”
You swallowed but nodded, holding on tighter to the back of his neck.  “I… I want you to get me pregnant.”
“God, yes,” he whined through his teeth, fucking you faster.
“I-I want you to fill me up so I can have a baby,” you continued in a whisper, and he moaned again as his grip on your hips tightened.  You could hardly believe what you were saying, nor that he had asked you to say it, and yet it made the most wonderfully bizarre feeling stir inside you— strangest of all, it was turning you on.  “F-fuck, Angus, I’m gonna come.”
“You’re gonna come with me?” he pressed, sighing when you nodded.  “Fuck, let’s do it— we’ll come together.  That’ll definitely get you pregnant.”
“Jesus, Angus,” you hissed, “what are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t get you hot, thinking about it?” he challenged.  “Thinking about us making a baby right now?  Imagining how good it would feel to let me breed you and make you a mommy?”
“Sh-shut the fuck up,” you grunted, but you were already trying to hold it back.
“God, you want it so bad,” he noticed— how was he only this perceptive in these sorts of situations?  “You want me to come in you and knock you up, I can tell.  You’re gonna come just thinking about it.”
Even though it wasn’t really just thinking about it— it was him fucking you deep and fast and hard after a whole night of making love— you were forced to bite your lip and nod.
“C’mon, baby, I wanna feel it again,” he purred.  “Feels so fucking perfect when you come around me— you’re mine, aren’t you?”
Your heart jumped and your eyes shut tight.  “God,” you groaned in frustration, but he just smiled and held you tighter.
“It’s okay,” he cooed, “nobody has to know, it’s just me— you’re mine, right?  Say it.  Say you’re mine.”
You whined when it hit you— and nothing had ever hit you quite like that.  Tensing up inside, pulsing uncontrollably, you felt the weight on your chest lift and you dug your nails into his shoulders as he fucked you through it.  “Fuck!  I-I’m yours!” you blurted out, unable to stop it when you were drowning in your ecstasy like that.
He swore against your ear, and gave you hardly one more thrust before falling over the edge himself, groaning weakly as his body sank down onto yours.
You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t force you to address any of what you’d just said; he looked so exhausted that you almost wanted to let him fall asleep here if it meant avoiding that conversation.  But it was just like him to only give you about ten seconds of silence before running his mouth again.
He started by just sitting up enough to kiss you on the cheek, then the lips, then the side of your forehead when you turned away.  “That was so hot,” he announced, still catching his breath, as he grinned down at you.
“That was… different,” you admitted as you hoped your embarrassment wouldn’t show on your face.  “You weren’t serious, right?  I mean, you know I’m on the pill—”
“Yeah, of course,” he assured, “it’s just, I don’t know, a fantasy.”
You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him.  “Respectfully, I thought it was more of a nightmare— you know, it’s kinda worst-case-scenario here.”
“No, no, I know— that’s why it’s fun,” he explained.  “‘Cause it’s, like, bad.  Well, not bad, but… scary.  In a good way!  Like a rollercoaster or something.”
“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, “just like a rollercoaster.  That’s why the maternity ward at the hospital looks so much like Six Flags.”
“You know what I mean,” he laughed.  “It’s just… if it actually happened it would be a huge fucking deal… but just imagining it, just for fun I mean, it makes my heart race.  See?”
He picked up one of your hands and put it on his neck, pressing your fingers into his pulse so you could feel its rapidness.  “Fair enough,” you shrugged, “you sure scared the crap out of me for a second.”
“You liked it,” he cooed, kissing the tip of your nose.  “You like being mine, too.”
Even if you could’ve hid the reaction on your face somehow, the way your weak muscles still found the energy to clench around his softening cock gave you away; he purred as he smiled, kissing you more tenderly on the lips this time.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to you.
“I probably look like a mess,” you laughed quietly, “I don’t even want to know what my hair looks like after a night like this.”
“Yeah, that’s how I like you, though— you look pretty all fucked up,” he explained.
You glanced over as he moved to bury his face in your neck again, only to see the slightest blue glow in the window: the early light just before dawn.  “Angus, it’s almost morning,” you noticed.  “You need to go.”
“Not yet,” he begged, hugging you tighter.  “I bet I can make you come again—”
“No,” you snapped, “if your parents find out you snuck out— and if anyone knows you came here—”
“Baby, c’mon,” he pouted, “I’ll be quick, nobody’s gonna know—”
“I swear to god, Angus—”
“Fine, fine,” he sighed, “then just kiss me before I go.”
He held your cheek and turned your face to his, and you kissed him; you hated these kisses, the ones that felt like goodbye.  They were amazing, of course, but they always broke your heart.
“I’ll see you later?” he assumed.
“You’ll see me on Sunday,” you replied.
“Nooo, I can’t wait that long,” he whined.
“Yes you can,” you breathed.  “Now get up, please, before I have to literally kick you out.”
“Fine,” he relented, climbing off of you and searching the floor for his boxers and t-shirt.
“I still can’t believe you ran here without even putting a coat on,” you remembered, “it’s below freezing out.”
“Whatever, it’s not even a block to my house,” he rolled his eyes.
“Mr. Lindy across the street takes out the trash insanely early in the morning— what if he sees you running back to your house in the snow without any fucking clothes on?!” 
“He was young once, right?  He’ll understand,” Angus laughed.
“I’m hoping he doesn’t understand,” you groaned, “‘cause if he figures it out and tells my parents—”
“I know,” he breathed, slipping on his shoes and leaning over the bed to kiss you quickly.  “It’ll be fine, okay?”
“Okay,” you smiled back.
There was a brief pause before Angus dropped his arms down against his sides, hitting his legs; “Well, I… guess I’ll see you at Mass,” he announced.
“That’s gotta be the weirdest thing to say after hooking up with somebody,” you decided.
“I couldn’t think of anything else!” he defended.  “I’m about to jump out your window, it’s already a pretty weird transition.”
“Okay, first of all, please don’t jump,” you replied, “but fair enough.  I’ll see you at Mass.”
He hesitated, suddenly giving you one more kiss— one that lingered a little more— before opening your window and beginning to climb out.
~
Mass was certainly a lot more interesting when you kept feeling Angus’ eyes on you.  His family had been just barely on time for the service, so you hadn’t been able to talk to him before it started; you could tell he was dying to know if you’d gone through with it.
You tugged on the bottom of your dress as you adjusted yourself in the pew; it was definitely a weird feeling, and you couldn’t stop worrying that someone, somehow, would see up your skirt and get an eyeful.  The anxiety of it was oddly arousing, though— it made you understand a bit better what Angus had said about the whole scary in a good way thing.
When you occasionally spared a glance at him, you noticed that Angus still looked a little underslept; you’d both been up all night just a couple days ago, but the difference was that your parents didn’t really mind if you spent most of the next day in your room, so you’d had a chance to catch up— Angus’ parents were more determined to make use of his time off from school, and had him doing all kinds of chores and activities on Saturday that prevented him from getting more than a quick nap here and there.
And they’d tugged him out of bed bright and early for church today, so he was probably still feeling the effects of an all-nighter.  That said, he certainly didn’t seem lacking in energy at the moment— he kept wringing his hands, constantly glancing at you, so noticeably that his mom lightly smacked him on the shoulder when she noticed it.
But you were looking across the aisle at him, too.  If for no other reason than how cute he looked in his shirt and tie.
After the service, as everyone mingled around coffee and donuts, Angus made a beeline towards you— you’d kind of hoped he would be a little more subtle.
“Hey,” he greeted, and you just nodded at him with a smirk.  “It’s been too long.”
He glanced at all the people passing by, stepping closer to you to let someone walk past but never moving back; he waited until no one was too close before he spoke again in a lower voice.
“Are you really not wearing any…?” he asked, an extra sparkle in his eye and a mischievous smile on his face.  His smile dropped a bit when you nodded, though, and his eyes raked over you in the most intoxicating, lascivious way.  You were sure you’d never had someone look at you like that, like they’d give anything to devour you right then— and with no panties to hold it, you felt your arousal slicken where your thighs rubbed together.
He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was looking over at him as he adjusted his corduroys awkwardly; you licked your lips, a little too flattered by the effect you had on him.
“That’s, um, that’s…” he mumbled, tripping over his words.  “That’s really… yeah.”
“Really what?” you challenged as you bit your lip briefly, moving closer to him and all but batting your eyes up at him.
“It’s really fucking sexy,” he whispered.
“Yeah?” you cooed.  “I think it’s sexy that you think it’s sexy.”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about—” he began.
“I know,” you sighed, “me too.”
“I wasn’t even tired that day— I was wired, actually,” he laughed quietly.  “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Your heart’s pace picked up a bit, and you glanced away briefly.  “I, um… I thought about you, too.
“There’s gotta be somewhere we can go,” he whispered.  “It’s a big place— everyone’s here, if we just… found an empty room—”
“Jesus, Angus— in a church?!” you hissed.
“Come on,” he begged, “I don’t know when we’ll get a chance again— and I’m leaving tomorrow— and I want you so bad—”
“Shh,” you warned him, making sure no one was nearby again.  “We’ll figure something out— just not here.  It’s too risky.”
“But I need you now,” he insisted, voice lower and darker as he stepped just a bit closer to you.  “It won’t take us long— I mean, it definitely won’t take me long, after spending the last two days thinking about you.”
You crossed your arms, looking down at the floor, and you felt him lean in over you.  “Please, baby?” he whispered under his breath.
Releting, you took a glance at the crowd and made sure nobody was looking in your direction.  “You go find an empty room in the east wing.  I’ll talk to a few people— so it doesn’t look like we’re going together— and I’ll come find you in a few minutes, okay?”
“Great,” he beamed.  “Uh, which way is east again?”
You pointed him in the right direction and watched him bound away, sighing to yourself as you re-entered the crowd.  You got a lot of questions about your plan now that you finished your degree— and you found yourself repeating the same stock answer about how your graduate program didn’t start until the fall so you had the spring and summer to stay home.  Even though you knew you needed to kill some time to look less suspicious, you found yourself glancing constantly towards the east wing, getting more and more impatient for your chance to slip away as unnoticed as possible.
As the crowd was clearing out and nearly everyone’s attention was turned onto somebody’s new baby, you took the opportunity to disappear into the dark hallway.  As you peered around the doors, you saw Angus peeking out at you through one of the little windows; the door opened, and you slipped into an abandoned Sunday school classroom, barely having time to gingerly shut the door behind you before you felt his lips on your neck and his hand sliding up your thigh.
“That took forever,” he complained, and before you could remind him it had hardly been five minutes, his fingers were exploring between your legs.  “Fuck, what’re you so wet for?” he teased, and you groaned as you pulled him closer by his pants and hopped up to sit on the low bookshelf nearby.
“Just hurry up,” you hissed, “we need to get this over with before somebody finds us here.”
He opened his fly quickly, but struggled slightly to free himself from the confines of his trousers; you hummed a bit when he got it out, pressing it against you right away as you moved your hips up.
Thrusting into you all at once, you both sighed slowly; you took hold of his shoulders, he grabbed onto your hips, and instantly he began to fuck into you impatiently.
“God, you’re so tight,” he hissed against your ear.  “Touch yourself— I want you to come, too.”
You reached between your bodies to put a few fingers on your clit, rubbing fast in hopes that you could catch up with him.
“Do you always do what you’re told?” he mocked playfully.
“I think the fact that we’re doing this right after church proves that I don’t,” you replied.
“Guess you only do what I tell you to,” he shrugged, which really made you want to talk back, but you couldn’t because you were trying not to moan too loudly.
He moved faster inside you, and something about the angle of sitting up on the shelf was making him hit just the right spot— or maybe you were sensitive from the exhilarating fear of getting caught.
“What if I got you pregnant here?” he purred, making you arch your back slightly.  “Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“You’ve got a weird sense of humor, Tully,” you breathed, struggling not to let your voice come out all whiny and weak.
“Knocked up at St. Mary’s… it’s what God would want, right?”
“Do you never shut up?” you hissed.
“No,” he smirked, “you’re cute when you’re ticked off at me.”
His eyes met yours, and you felt a strange emotion stir in your chest: you bit your lip, willing yourself to tear away from his gaze, but you found it impossible somehow.
One of his hands moved from your hip up to your chest, palming at you through your dress.  You tensed up inside, making him wince a bit, and you couldn’t believe how close you were already.
“Oh god, baby, m’gonna come,” you whimpered, moving your hand even faster over your clit; he groaned in approval, leaning in to kiss all along your neck.
“Come for me,” he pleaded, “I’m so fucking close— please come, fuck—”
“R-right there,” you gasped, gripping his shoulder tighter— actually, that wasn’t the only place you were gripping him tighter.  He was struggling to maintain the pace of his thrusts, in fact, with how hard your walls were bearing down on him.  “Yes, yes, yes—”
“Not too loud,” he warned you, and you bit hard on your own lip to suppress your moan: it stayed in your throat instead, and you heard him gasp as he heard and felt you reaching your peak.  He had to take his hand off your chest and put it on the bookshelf under you to help keep you upright, and he looked down between your bodies to watch himself give you a few final thrusts.
He stopped suddenly, whimpering slightly as he buried himself in you as deep as he could go; you sighed and laid back on the bookshelf again, having to tilt your head to avoid a figurine of some prophet or saint that you had absolutely no interest in identifying at the moment.
Angus took a moment to catch his breath, before looking back over his shoulder and through the door’s window to make sure no one was in the hallway.  He pulled his cock out of you carefully and did his best to fit it back into his pants.  As you felt a warm oozing feeling between your legs, your face began to heat up.
“Maybe I didn’t think this through,” you realized.
“What?” he mumbled.
“I’m gonna have to go out there with nothing on under my dress, with your come leaking out of me.”
He bit his lip.
“It’s not sexy, Angus!  It’s very inconvenient!” you frowned.
“It’s both,” he insisted.  “It’s very much both.”
~
Though you did get another chance to see Angus before he left, it wasn’t that sort of rendezvous, unfortunately.  Although, just sitting and talking with him was wonderful, too— in an entirely different way.  See, that was the thing that scared you most, even more than how badly you’d come to crave his touch: how happy you felt just being with him.
He was funny, and weird, and seemed to think your stories from college were fascinating; he was well-read, especially for a high school student, and you two could chat about your favorite books— a hobby most of your classmates in college found too nerdy to sympathize with.  
It probably looked totally wholesome from the outside: two childhood friends catching up while they were back home for a while.  And you, you probably looked normal and cool on the outside— you were trying to, at least.  But inside, you were terrified.  You wanted it to be like what Angus said— scary, in a good way, like a rollercoaster— but you were starting to just feel sick.  You know, like an actual rollercoaster would…
“Everyone there is so… dumb,” Angus decided as he leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.
“That can’t be true, it’s a good school,” you tried to encourage him.
“I mean, maybe they could be smart, but they act like morons,” he clarified.  “They hate me, too, and I don’t even really know why.”
“Probably because they can sense that you think they’re all morons,” you suggested; and he looked over at you, as if he’d genuinely never thought of that before.
But instead of addressing that, he sat up again and changed the subject.  “My parents probably want me to go back and, like, put my trunk in the car and stuff…”
“Right,” you nodded, “you should go.”
“Yeah— b-but, listen, um, before I do…” he trailed off, leaning a little closer to you on the couch.  “I wanted to, you know, talk.  About something.”
“We’ve been talking for half an hour,” you noticed.
“Right, uh— I meant something specific,” he explained, his cheeks seeming to get a little bit more pink.  “I… I won’t be back until spring break, you know…”
“Uh huh,” you nodded, raising an eyebrow as you wondered what he was getting at.
“And, you know, we’ve been having such a great time,” he went on, and your heart twisted.  You’d heard this spiel before: the things are so good now, why do we need to put a label on it? why can’t we just have fun talk.  The you’re great, but not good enough for more than this talk.  You decided to jump in and spare him before he said anything too… honest.
“I get it,” you promised, and he looked at you nervously.  “We’re gonna be too far apart for too long— and you shouldn’t, you know, feel like you’re tied down to anything.  It’s okay— I didn’t think I was, like, your girlfriend or anything.”
“R-right,” he coughed, looking away and putting his hand on the back of his neck.  “Yeah, that’s— that’s what I was gonna say.  I knew you’d understand.”
You smiled, wishing you weren’t always so goddamn understanding.  “But it was fun— a good way to kill time over the break, for sure.”
“Yeah,” he agreed alongside a thin laugh.  “I… I think I’ll always owe you, for being my first time and all.”
“Well, you’ve certainly spent your first two weeks of not being a virgin pretty well,” you snorted.  “I had a good time.  We’ll call it even.”
“And… when I come back?” he pressed.  “Maybe we can, I dunno… maybe we can do it again.”
You grinned and tilted your head.  “Yeah, I like that idea.”
“But can I still call you?” he asked nervously.
“Of course!” you beamed.  “You’ll have to tell me if you get any good books assigned this semester.”
“Yeah, I doubt it,” he scoffed, but his smile lifted just a bit.
“I can come see you off, if you want,” you offered, “but it might make your mom suspect something…”
“You’re probably right,” he admitted, “I wish you weren’t, but you are— but I’ll call first thing when I get there!”
You smiled, and he gave you a hug before he left; and he promised to call again, though you’d believed him the first time.  And the next time you stayed up all night with Angus, it was on the phone— he snuck out of bed with a bag of quarters, and told you the phone was free so you wouldn’t feel bad, and talked to you about everything he could possibly think of.
Except, you didn’t quite make it all night: you fell asleep at some point, while he was talking about his English paper… not that he could blame you.
And for some reason, one that even he himself couldn’t quite explain, he kept feeding the phone quarters and listening to you sleep; he didn’t hang up until it was nearly morning and he had to sneak back into his room.
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Happiness Will Come To You.
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Lord have mercy I'm about to bust!
𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | angus tully x reader
sequel to 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲, won't really make much sense without reading that!
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | holiday break can only last so long, but angus wants this to be more than a fling-- and you, as much as you want to deny it, already know it's more than a fling. the question remains if either one of you will admit it.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.3k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public sex, breeding kink, very inappropriate activities in a church, secret relationship, a wee bit of angst and fluff at the end!
part 3 coming soon!
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“Fuck, I don’t wanna go back,” he groaned, dropping his head defeatedly into the crook of your neck.  “I never wanna go back to that horrible fucking school.”
“I guess you’ll just see me at Easter break then, huh?” you purred, grazing your teeth over his ear.
“You know, if sex with you keeps lining up with the Catholic calendar, it’s gonna give me a complex or something,” he noticed.
“Oh, I can do better than that,” you beamed.  “Next time you see me at Mass, I won’t be wearing any panties.  And you’ll be the only other one who knows.”
He perked up again, balancing himself over you with bent arms against the mattress.  “I swear, you’re a dream come true.  A really fucked up dream I had after seeing a porno mag or something.”
You laughed, but it was cut off with him pulling you into another kiss— sweet and slow, with both of you smiling against each other.  With your limbs tangled together under the sheets, you melted together into your bed; and no, none of it really seemed real yet.  Every time this happened, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were hooking up with Angus Tully.  Frankly, you were sort of trying not to think about it, at least not too much.  If you really tried, you could look at his face and see the little kid you babysat all those years ago, and it just made you feel sort of awful about it… yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.
Your smile fell into a gasp when he started to kiss your neck, his hands guiding your back as it arched slightly.  When he pressed his body against yours, you felt him getting hard against your leg, and you groaned softly.
“Fuck, Angus, again?” you whined.  “We already went twice—”
“I’m leaving in two days,” he explained, “I need you as many times as I can get away with it.”
You wanted to protest, say something about how sore you were or about how he needed to leave and go back home before someone noticed he was gone— but his slender fingers were already diving between your legs and making you just moan instead.
“See?  You’re wet already,” he noticed with a playful mockery to his tone.  “I’ve gotta take care of you, baby…”
Oh, you couldn’t stand it when he talked like that— when he made you feel so vulnerable to him, so paradoxically submissive.  When this started a couple weeks back, it was the other way around: you were the cool, older woman with all the power.  You told him what you wanted and he was more than happy to oblige, never questioning you— he was obedient, basically.  But once you’d had a few more encounters, he realized that you wanted him just as badly… that he could make you desperate, if he wanted.  Once he’d had the smallest taste of control, he was suddenly a changed man; now, he loved to tease and taunt you, see how far he could push you, even once he made you beg— and you expected you’d never get to live that down. 
He watched your face with a mischievous smile as he slowly slid two fingers into you, watching the way you winced and then relaxed.  “I’ll be careful,” he promised, “I know you’re all sensitive still… thought you might wake up the whole house with that last one.”
You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed, remembering how he’d had to cover your mouth with his hand when he made you come.  These were issues you hadn’t considered much before, since you spent most of the year living in a dorm where you didn’t really care if anyone heard what you were up to.  Staying in your parents’ house again— and secretly fucking their friends’ son in your childhood bedroom— posed new challenges to say the least.
You gasped when his fingers curled inside you, rubbing that spot that made everything clench for a moment.  “Mm,” he observed encouragingly, “like that?”
“Yes,” you hissed under your breath.  Just when you began to let your eyes fall shut, they shot open when he added a third finger inside you.  “Fuck!” 
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he scolded, “you can fit three fingers just fine— my cock’s bigger than all that anyways.”
He twisted the fingers inside you as your hips rocked, shivers running over your skin.  “Yeah, but still— fuck, it’s a lot…”
“You take it just fine,” he assured.  “You take whatever I give you, huh?”
“Sh-shut up,” you whimpered, and he laughed softly.
“You’re so good for me,” he continued anyways, making you bite your lip in hopes he wouldn’t notice his effect on you.  Whenever he said stuff like that, you just wanted to ask him who the fuck he thought he was— it made you want to shove him off of you and pin him down, remind him of his place.  But you never did, because letting him take control always felt so damn good…
His head dipped down a bit under the covers— and his lips latched onto one of your nipples, making you gasp and grab his hair with one of your hands.  “Oh god— yes,” you praised, shuddering a bit as he suckled hard on the bud.
He moaned around it, his free hand holding the other breast and keeping you down even when your back longed to arch deeper.  “You get so wet when I do this,” he noticed as he pulled away briefly, moving to suck the other for a moment as his fingers gently pumped into you.  When he pushed them in all the way to the knuckle, at the same time that his tongue swirled around your nipple just right, your patience finally gave in.
“Just fuck me,” you begged, tugging harder on his curls as you felt him smile against your skin.  “God, I just— fuck—”
He pulled away from your breast with a pop and a grin.  “Just ask nicely, baby, and I’m all yours.”
“I know you want to, just fuck me,” you growled, but he shook his head and you clenched your jaw.
“You can say it,” he encouraged, “just use the magic word.”
You rolled your eyes, hating the juvenile way of describing it, but his fingers were still moving inside you and you just needed it too bad— “Please,” you breathed.  “Please fuck me.”
“There you go,” he praised, slowly pulling his drenched fingers out of you and moving his hips to line up with yours instead.  He was so hard; you were almost impressed with his resolve, though at the moment you were mostly just annoyed with it.  “Look up at me,” he demanded, making you meet his gaze before he pushed himself inside you.
It was almost too intense, looking right into his eyes as he thrust into you carefully— you bit your lip, watching the heavy sigh of relief leave him as he filled you.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes scanning all over your face and watching your expression change as he pressed his cock as deep as possible.  “You’re fucking perfect.”
You didn’t really believe that, but you at least would concede that this moment was perfect.
You held tighter onto him, legs wrapping around his hips, as he leaned in closer and moaned against your neck.  “How am I supposed to leave when you feel this fucking good?” he groaned lowly, and you felt yourself already beginning to pulse inside as you moved closer to the edge.  “I feel good too, right?”
Poor thing— if only he knew that it was his own fault you withheld praise, just because he sounded too precious when he asked you for reassurance like that.  He was really fucking talkative, way more than you expected; sometimes you thought if you didn’t say anything, he’d just go off on these wild tangents about how bad he needs you.  “You feel good,” you replied, trying to keep it a little vague so he’d ask for more.
“How good?” he asked with a grin, and you smiled, too, because he was wonderfully predictable sometimes.
“So good,” you cooed, “so fucking good that I’m gonna come way too fast.”
“Hey, that’s my thing,” he joked.  His stamina had definitely increased a lot in just a few encounters, but he still had a habit of coming quickly if you got him a bit too riled up.  Not that you really minded… it was still cute, after all, and he usually made it up to you one way or another.
He picked up his pace, letting out a low moan against your ear.  “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he ordered, panting with each quick thrust.
“Fuck, Angus, I want you come,” you replied, whispering against his ear.  “I want you to fill me—”
“Fuck…”
“And put all your come so deep in me—”
“Fuck, baby,” he whined again.  “I’m so fucking close.”
You whined, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling your chest get tighter as you moved closer to the edge.
“Tell me you want me to breed you,” he added; okay, so much for predictable…
“Wh-what?” you choked, feeling suddenly hot all over.  “Angus, I—”
“I know, you won’t,” he soothed, “it’s just, you know, pretend… just say you want it, please.”
You swallowed but nodded, holding on tighter to the back of his neck.  “I… I want you to get me pregnant.”
“God, yes,” he whined through his teeth, fucking you faster.
“I-I want you to fill me up so I can have a baby,” you continued in a whisper, and he moaned again as his grip on your hips tightened.  You could hardly believe what you were saying, nor that he had asked you to say it, and yet it made the most wonderfully bizarre feeling stir inside you— strangest of all, it was turning you on.  “F-fuck, Angus, I’m gonna come.”
“You’re gonna come with me?” he pressed, sighing when you nodded.  “Fuck, let’s do it— we’ll come together.  That’ll definitely get you pregnant.”
“Jesus, Angus,” you hissed, “what are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t get you hot, thinking about it?” he challenged.  “Thinking about us making a baby right now?  Imagining how good it would feel to let me breed you and make you a mommy?”
“Sh-shut the fuck up,” you grunted, but you were already trying to hold it back.
“God, you want it so bad,” he noticed— how was he only this perceptive in these sorts of situations?  “You want me to come in you and knock you up, I can tell.  You’re gonna come just thinking about it.”
Even though it wasn’t really just thinking about it— it was him fucking you deep and fast and hard after a whole night of making love— you were forced to bite your lip and nod.
“C’mon, baby, I wanna feel it again,” he purred.  “Feels so fucking perfect when you come around me— you’re mine, aren’t you?”
Your heart jumped and your eyes shut tight.  “God,” you groaned in frustration, but he just smiled and held you tighter.
“It’s okay,” he cooed, “nobody has to know, it’s just me— you’re mine, right?  Say it.  Say you’re mine.”
You whined when it hit you— and nothing had ever hit you quite like that.  Tensing up inside, pulsing uncontrollably, you felt the weight on your chest lift and you dug your nails into his shoulders as he fucked you through it.  “Fuck!  I-I’m yours!” you blurted out, unable to stop it when you were drowning in your ecstasy like that.
He swore against your ear, and gave you hardly one more thrust before falling over the edge himself, groaning weakly as his body sank down onto yours.
You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t force you to address any of what you’d just said; he looked so exhausted that you almost wanted to let him fall asleep here if it meant avoiding that conversation.  But it was just like him to only give you about ten seconds of silence before running his mouth again.
He started by just sitting up enough to kiss you on the cheek, then the lips, then the side of your forehead when you turned away.  “That was so hot,” he announced, still catching his breath, as he grinned down at you.
“That was… different,” you admitted as you hoped your embarrassment wouldn’t show on your face.  “You weren’t serious, right?  I mean, you know I’m on the pill—”
“Yeah, of course,” he assured, “it’s just, I don’t know, a fantasy.”
You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him.  “Respectfully, I thought it was more of a nightmare— you know, it’s kinda worst-case-scenario here.”
“No, no, I know— that’s why it’s fun,” he explained.  “‘Cause it’s, like, bad.  Well, not bad, but… scary.  In a good way!  Like a rollercoaster or something.”
“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, “just like a rollercoaster.  That’s why the maternity ward at the hospital looks so much like Six Flags.”
“You know what I mean,” he laughed.  “It’s just… if it actually happened it would be a huge fucking deal… but just imagining it, just for fun I mean, it makes my heart race.  See?”
He picked up one of your hands and put it on his neck, pressing your fingers into his pulse so you could feel its rapidness.  “Fair enough,” you shrugged, “you sure scared the crap out of me for a second.”
“You liked it,” he cooed, kissing the tip of your nose.  “You like being mine, too.”
Even if you could’ve hid the reaction on your face somehow, the way your weak muscles still found the energy to clench around his softening cock gave you away; he purred as he smiled, kissing you more tenderly on the lips this time.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to you.
“I probably look like a mess,” you laughed quietly, “I don’t even want to know what my hair looks like after a night like this.”
“Yeah, that’s how I like you, though— you look pretty all fucked up,” he explained.
You glanced over as he moved to bury his face in your neck again, only to see the slightest blue glow in the window: the early light just before dawn.  “Angus, it’s almost morning,” you noticed.  “You need to go.”
“Not yet,” he begged, hugging you tighter.  “I bet I can make you come again—”
“No,” you snapped, “if your parents find out you snuck out— and if anyone knows you came here—”
“Baby, c’mon,” he pouted, “I’ll be quick, nobody’s gonna know—”
“I swear to god, Angus—”
“Fine, fine,” he sighed, “then just kiss me before I go.”
He held your cheek and turned your face to his, and you kissed him; you hated these kisses, the ones that felt like goodbye.  They were amazing, of course, but they always broke your heart.
“I’ll see you later?” he assumed.
“You’ll see me on Sunday,” you replied.
“Nooo, I can’t wait that long,” he whined.
“Yes you can,” you breathed.  “Now get up, please, before I have to literally kick you out.”
“Fine,” he relented, climbing off of you and searching the floor for his boxers and t-shirt.
“I still can’t believe you ran here without even putting a coat on,” you remembered, “it’s below freezing out.”
“Whatever, it’s not even a block to my house,” he rolled his eyes.
“Mr. Lindy across the street takes out the trash insanely early in the morning— what if he sees you running back to your house in the snow without any fucking clothes on?!” 
“He was young once, right?  He’ll understand,” Angus laughed.
“I’m hoping he doesn’t understand,” you groaned, “‘cause if he figures it out and tells my parents—”
“I know,” he breathed, slipping on his shoes and leaning over the bed to kiss you quickly.  “It’ll be fine, okay?”
“Okay,” you smiled back.
There was a brief pause before Angus dropped his arms down against his sides, hitting his legs; “Well, I… guess I’ll see you at Mass,” he announced.
“That’s gotta be the weirdest thing to say after hooking up with somebody,” you decided.
“I couldn’t think of anything else!” he defended.  “I’m about to jump out your window, it’s already a pretty weird transition.”
“Okay, first of all, please don’t jump,” you replied, “but fair enough.  I’ll see you at Mass.”
He hesitated, suddenly giving you one more kiss— one that lingered a little more— before opening your window and beginning to climb out.
~
Mass was certainly a lot more interesting when you kept feeling Angus’ eyes on you.  His family had been just barely on time for the service, so you hadn’t been able to talk to him before it started; you could tell he was dying to know if you’d gone through with it.
You tugged on the bottom of your dress as you adjusted yourself in the pew; it was definitely a weird feeling, and you couldn’t stop worrying that someone, somehow, would see up your skirt and get an eyeful.  The anxiety of it was oddly arousing, though— it made you understand a bit better what Angus had said about the whole scary in a good way thing.
When you occasionally spared a glance at him, you noticed that Angus still looked a little underslept; you’d both been up all night just a couple days ago, but the difference was that your parents didn’t really mind if you spent most of the next day in your room, so you’d had a chance to catch up— Angus’ parents were more determined to make use of his time off from school, and had him doing all kinds of chores and activities on Saturday that prevented him from getting more than a quick nap here and there.
And they’d tugged him out of bed bright and early for church today, so he was probably still feeling the effects of an all-nighter.  That said, he certainly didn’t seem lacking in energy at the moment— he kept wringing his hands, constantly glancing at you, so noticeably that his mom lightly smacked him on the shoulder when she noticed it.
But you were looking across the aisle at him, too.  If for no other reason than how cute he looked in his shirt and tie.
After the service, as everyone mingled around coffee and donuts, Angus made a beeline towards you— you’d kind of hoped he would be a little more subtle.
“Hey,” he greeted, and you just nodded at him with a smirk.  “It’s been too long.”
He glanced at all the people passing by, stepping closer to you to let someone walk past but never moving back; he waited until no one was too close before he spoke again in a lower voice.
“Are you really not wearing any…?” he asked, an extra sparkle in his eye and a mischievous smile on his face.  His smile dropped a bit when you nodded, though, and his eyes raked over you in the most intoxicating, lascivious way.  You were sure you’d never had someone look at you like that, like they’d give anything to devour you right then— and with no panties to hold it, you felt your arousal slicken where your thighs rubbed together.
He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was looking over at him as he adjusted his corduroys awkwardly; you licked your lips, a little too flattered by the effect you had on him.
“That’s, um, that’s…” he mumbled, tripping over his words.  “That’s really… yeah.”
“Really what?” you challenged as you bit your lip briefly, moving closer to him and all but batting your eyes up at him.
“It’s really fucking sexy,” he whispered.
“Yeah?” you cooed.  “I think it’s sexy that you think it’s sexy.”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about—” he began.
“I know,” you sighed, “me too.”
“I wasn’t even tired that day— I was wired, actually,” he laughed quietly.  “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Your heart’s pace picked up a bit, and you glanced away briefly.  “I, um… I thought about you, too.
“There’s gotta be somewhere we can go,” he whispered.  “It’s a big place— everyone’s here, if we just… found an empty room—”
“Jesus, Angus— in a church?!” you hissed.
“Come on,” he begged, “I don’t know when we’ll get a chance again— and I’m leaving tomorrow— and I want you so bad—”
“Shh,” you warned him, making sure no one was nearby again.  “We’ll figure something out— just not here.  It’s too risky.”
“But I need you now,” he insisted, voice lower and darker as he stepped just a bit closer to you.  “It won’t take us long— I mean, it definitely won’t take me long, after spending the last two days thinking about you.”
You crossed your arms, looking down at the floor, and you felt him lean in over you.  “Please, baby?” he whispered under his breath.
Releting, you took a glance at the crowd and made sure nobody was looking in your direction.  “You go find an empty room in the east wing.  I’ll talk to a few people— so it doesn’t look like we’re going together— and I’ll come find you in a few minutes, okay?”
“Great,” he beamed.  “Uh, which way is east again?”
You pointed him in the right direction and watched him bound away, sighing to yourself as you re-entered the crowd.  You got a lot of questions about your plan now that you finished your degree— and you found yourself repeating the same stock answer about how your graduate program didn’t start until the fall so you had the spring and summer to stay home.  Even though you knew you needed to kill some time to look less suspicious, you found yourself glancing constantly towards the east wing, getting more and more impatient for your chance to slip away as unnoticed as possible.
As the crowd was clearing out and nearly everyone’s attention was turned onto somebody’s new baby, you took the opportunity to disappear into the dark hallway.  As you peered around the doors, you saw Angus peeking out at you through one of the little windows; the door opened, and you slipped into an abandoned Sunday school classroom, barely having time to gingerly shut the door behind you before you felt his lips on your neck and his hand sliding up your thigh.
“That took forever,” he complained, and before you could remind him it had hardly been five minutes, his fingers were exploring between your legs.  “Fuck, what’re you so wet for?” he teased, and you groaned as you pulled him closer by his pants and hopped up to sit on the low bookshelf nearby.
“Just hurry up,” you hissed, “we need to get this over with before somebody finds us here.”
He opened his fly quickly, but struggled slightly to free himself from the confines of his trousers; you hummed a bit when he got it out, pressing it against you right away as you moved your hips up.
Thrusting into you all at once, you both sighed slowly; you took hold of his shoulders, he grabbed onto your hips, and instantly he began to fuck into you impatiently.
“God, you’re so tight,” he hissed against your ear.  “Touch yourself— I want you to come, too.”
You reached between your bodies to put a few fingers on your clit, rubbing fast in hopes that you could catch up with him.
“Do you always do what you’re told?” he mocked playfully.
“I think the fact that we’re doing this right after church proves that I don’t,” you replied.
“Guess you only do what I tell you to,” he shrugged, which really made you want to talk back, but you couldn’t because you were trying not to moan too loudly.
He moved faster inside you, and something about the angle of sitting up on the shelf was making him hit just the right spot— or maybe you were sensitive from the exhilarating fear of getting caught.
“What if I got you pregnant here?” he purred, making you arch your back slightly.  “Wouldn’t that be funny?”
“You’ve got a weird sense of humor, Tully,” you breathed, struggling not to let your voice come out all whiny and weak.
“Knocked up at St. Mary’s… it’s what God would want, right?”
“Do you never shut up?” you hissed.
“No,” he smirked, “you’re cute when you’re ticked off at me.”
His eyes met yours, and you felt a strange emotion stir in your chest: you bit your lip, willing yourself to tear away from his gaze, but you found it impossible somehow.
One of his hands moved from your hip up to your chest, palming at you through your dress.  You tensed up inside, making him wince a bit, and you couldn’t believe how close you were already.
“Oh god, baby, m’gonna come,” you whimpered, moving your hand even faster over your clit; he groaned in approval, leaning in to kiss all along your neck.
“Come for me,” he pleaded, “I’m so fucking close— please come, fuck—”
“R-right there,” you gasped, gripping his shoulder tighter— actually, that wasn’t the only place you were gripping him tighter.  He was struggling to maintain the pace of his thrusts, in fact, with how hard your walls were bearing down on him.  “Yes, yes, yes—”
“Not too loud,” he warned you, and you bit hard on your own lip to suppress your moan: it stayed in your throat instead, and you heard him gasp as he heard and felt you reaching your peak.  He had to take his hand off your chest and put it on the bookshelf under you to help keep you upright, and he looked down between your bodies to watch himself give you a few final thrusts.
He stopped suddenly, whimpering slightly as he buried himself in you as deep as he could go; you sighed and laid back on the bookshelf again, having to tilt your head to avoid a figurine of some prophet or saint that you had absolutely no interest in identifying at the moment.
Angus took a moment to catch his breath, before looking back over his shoulder and through the door’s window to make sure no one was in the hallway.  He pulled his cock out of you carefully and did his best to fit it back into his pants.  As you felt a warm oozing feeling between your legs, your face began to heat up.
“Maybe I didn’t think this through,” you realized.
“What?” he mumbled.
“I’m gonna have to go out there with nothing on under my dress, with your come leaking out of me.”
He bit his lip.
“It’s not sexy, Angus!  It’s very inconvenient!” you frowned.
“It’s both,” he insisted.  “It’s very much both.”
~
Though you did get another chance to see Angus before he left, it wasn’t that sort of rendezvous, unfortunately.  Although, just sitting and talking with him was wonderful, too— in an entirely different way.  See, that was the thing that scared you most, even more than how badly you’d come to crave his touch: how happy you felt just being with him.
He was funny, and weird, and seemed to think your stories from college were fascinating; he was well-read, especially for a high school student, and you two could chat about your favorite books— a hobby most of your classmates in college found too nerdy to sympathize with.  
It probably looked totally wholesome from the outside: two childhood friends catching up while they were back home for a while.  And you, you probably looked normal and cool on the outside— you were trying to, at least.  But inside, you were terrified.  You wanted it to be like what Angus said— scary, in a good way, like a rollercoaster— but you were starting to just feel sick.  You know, like an actual rollercoaster would…
“Everyone there is so… dumb,” Angus decided as he leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.
“That can’t be true, it’s a good school,” you tried to encourage him.
“I mean, maybe they could be smart, but they act like morons,” he clarified.  “They hate me, too, and I don’t even really know why.”
“Probably because they can sense that you think they’re all morons,” you suggested; and he looked over at you, as if he’d genuinely never thought of that before.
But instead of addressing that, he sat up again and changed the subject.  “My parents probably want me to go back and, like, put my trunk in the car and stuff…”
“Right,” you nodded, “you should go.”
“Yeah— b-but, listen, um, before I do…” he trailed off, leaning a little closer to you on the couch.  “I wanted to, you know, talk.  About something.”
“We’ve been talking for half an hour,” you noticed.
“Right, uh— I meant something specific,” he explained, his cheeks seeming to get a little bit more pink.  “I… I won’t be back until spring break, you know…”
“Uh huh,” you nodded, raising an eyebrow as you wondered what he was getting at.
“And, you know, we’ve been having such a great time,” he went on, and your heart twisted.  You’d heard this spiel before: the things are so good now, why do we need to put a label on it? why can’t we just have fun talk.  The you’re great, but not good enough for more than this talk.  You decided to jump in and spare him before he said anything too… honest.
“I get it,” you promised, and he looked at you nervously.  “We’re gonna be too far apart for too long— and you shouldn’t, you know, feel like you’re tied down to anything.  It’s okay— I didn’t think I was, like, your girlfriend or anything.”
“R-right,” he coughed, looking away and putting his hand on the back of his neck.  “Yeah, that’s— that’s what I was gonna say.  I knew you’d understand.”
You smiled, wishing you weren’t always so goddamn understanding.  “But it was fun— a good way to kill time over the break, for sure.”
“Yeah,” he agreed alongside a thin laugh.  “I… I think I’ll always owe you, for being my first time and all.”
“Well, you’ve certainly spent your first two weeks of not being a virgin pretty well,” you snorted.  “I had a good time.  We’ll call it even.”
“And… when I come back?” he pressed.  “Maybe we can, I dunno… maybe we can do it again.”
You grinned and tilted your head.  “Yeah, I like that idea.”
“But can I still call you?” he asked nervously.
“Of course!” you beamed.  “You’ll have to tell me if you get any good books assigned this semester.”
“Yeah, I doubt it,” he scoffed, but his smile lifted just a bit.
“I can come see you off, if you want,” you offered, “but it might make your mom suspect something…”
“You’re probably right,” he admitted, “I wish you weren’t, but you are— but I’ll call first thing when I get there!”
You smiled, and he gave you a hug before he left; and he promised to call again, though you’d believed him the first time.  And the next time you stayed up all night with Angus, it was on the phone— he snuck out of bed with a bag of quarters, and told you the phone was free so you wouldn’t feel bad, and talked to you about everything he could possibly think of.
Except, you didn’t quite make it all night: you fell asleep at some point, while he was talking about his English paper… not that he could blame you.
And for some reason, one that even he himself couldn’t quite explain, he kept feeding the phone quarters and listening to you sleep; he didn’t hang up until it was nearly morning and he had to sneak back into his room.
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Sequel? YIPPIEE!!!
𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol
technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3
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The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening. 
The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground.  The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.  
It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.
The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer.  “Honey!  Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen.  She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade.  The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself.  She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.
Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.
Your parents were always really… energetic.  They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house.  To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…
“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.
“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.  
“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”
Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside.  “Wo-hoah!  You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…
As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.
He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something.  Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?  
“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.
“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.
Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily.  In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath.  He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church.  So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard.  It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it 
“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.
“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit.  He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…
“Let me make you two some drinks!  What are you having?”
He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now.  He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked.  He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.
“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen.  He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair.  She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”
“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied.  “I’ll help with the silverware.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them. 
“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand.  You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.
He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work.  “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”
“What?” 
“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed.  “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”
You scoffed a bit.  “And where should I put the opium spoon?”
“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing.  “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.
“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret.  Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…
“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up.  “Food’s coming out!  Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”
Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side.  “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.
“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted.  She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party.  She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.
And you.  She’d never mentioned you.
As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least.  He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.
Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence.  “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.  
“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy.  What have you been doing?”
“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.
“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.
Shit.  That illusion didn’t last long.  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”
You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was.  Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?
“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”
“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered.  “I graduated a semester early.”
“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great.  You’ve always been really smart…”
“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.
“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.
“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.
“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”
Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.
The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase.  He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet.  But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…
So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything.  Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him.  Now was it okay to look at you?
He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in.  He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.
“You look bored,” you noticed.
“Yeah?  I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.
“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered.  “What’s boarding school like?”
“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true.  “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”
“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.
“Some,” he said.  “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”
“Like what?” you pressed.  “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”
“Oh, all the time,” he laughed.  “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly.  I mean, I never got caught, so…”
You raised an eyebrow.  “You smoke?”
He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble.  He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little.  “What?” he wondered.
“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.
“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone.  But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.
“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered.  He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.
He grinned excitedly.  “Right now?”
“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.
“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”
~
“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.
“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind.  “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”
You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.
You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.
“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.
When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you.  Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night.  No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.
You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.
You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything.  He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.
“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside.  “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers.  “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?” 
You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly.  “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.
You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end.  His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.
“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked.  “Or did college make you more rebellious?”
“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.
“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.
“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready.  “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”
He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.  
You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.
He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times.  You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.
“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.
He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “N-not really, no,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”
“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”
“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.
“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer.  He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.
You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face.  He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.
“Better?” you asked.
“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”
“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat.  You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?
After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier.  You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.
“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.
“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled.  “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”
“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.
“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.
“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.
“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.
“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement.  Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.
After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high.  You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence.  “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him.  “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”
“I did,” you mumbled.
“R-really?” he choked.  “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”
“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.
“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”
He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.
“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you.  “I’m eighteen.”
“You mentioned that.”
“Right.  Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that.  I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature.  At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you.  I can’t really compete with college guys…”
“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head.  “What are you competing for?”
“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.  
“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again.  “My attention?”
“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.  
“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car.  “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”
He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp.  “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.  
You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already.  You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time.  Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop.  He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.
His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back.  You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow.  It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.
You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it.  Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little.  What a polite boy.
“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips.  One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.
“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence.  He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.
Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser.  You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.
One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin.  “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg.  You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.
“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.
“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass.  You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t.  It was still Angus, after all.
In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did.  He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra.  “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.
You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.
He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.
He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response.  “Fuck, are my hands cold?  I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.
“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.
“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath.  You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.
Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them.  “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth.  You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you.  “Fuck, Angus—”
“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats.  He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.
You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully.  You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would.  You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t.  Not very much, at least.  Certainly not enough to stop you.
You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt.  “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach.  “We're really gonna—?”
“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.
He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.
“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”
You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression.  “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him.  “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”
“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.
Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch.  “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.
“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.
“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him.  He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.  
“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.
“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured.  “I can turn the light off if you want though—”
“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light.  “No, I still wanna see.”
You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly.  “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.  
He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.
“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge.  The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”
You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan.  “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him.  “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”
He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.
“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly.  “You feel so fucking good…”
He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.
A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you.  Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you.  “Did you… just come?” you asked.
He was still panting, his face starting to flush red.  “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly.  “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”
“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”
“Uh…” he stalled anxiously.  “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”
“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s cute, honestly.  I don’t mind being your first.”
“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted.  “I imagined it like this.”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car.  “Like this?”
“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed.  “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed.  And whipped cream—”
“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”
You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”
“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.
“No, they don’t care— please?  Please just keep going?  I’m still hard, I can—”
“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced.  “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright?  We just have to get back inside now.”
He lit up instantly.  “Really?  So we can— we’ll do this again?”
“If you want,” you shrugged.
“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort.  “Of course I wanna see you again.  I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”
“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.
You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.
Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead.  “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.
“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.
“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on.  “You ready?”
“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be.  W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”
You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask.  You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected.  Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming.  His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.
Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.
You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind.  “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.
“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”
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𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol
technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3
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The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening. 
The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground.  The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.  
It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.
The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer.  “Honey!  Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen.  She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade.  The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself.  She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.
Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.
Your parents were always really… energetic.  They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house.  To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…
“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.
“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.  
“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”
Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside.  “Wo-hoah!  You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…
As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.
He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something.  Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?  
“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.
“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.
Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily.  In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath.  He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church.  So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard.  It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it 
“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.
“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit.  He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…
“Let me make you two some drinks!  What are you having?”
He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now.  He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked.  He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.
“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen.  He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair.  She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”
“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied.  “I’ll help with the silverware.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them. 
“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand.  You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.
He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work.  “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”
“What?” 
“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed.  “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”
You scoffed a bit.  “And where should I put the opium spoon?”
“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing.  “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.
“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret.  Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…
“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up.  “Food’s coming out!  Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”
Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side.  “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.
“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted.  She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party.  She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.
And you.  She’d never mentioned you.
As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least.  He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.
Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence.  “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.  
“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy.  What have you been doing?”
“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.
“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.
Shit.  That illusion didn’t last long.  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”
You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was.  Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?
“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”
“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered.  “I graduated a semester early.”
“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great.  You’ve always been really smart…”
“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.
“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.
“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.
“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”
Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.
The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase.  He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet.  But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…
So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything.  Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him.  Now was it okay to look at you?
He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in.  He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.
“You look bored,” you noticed.
“Yeah?  I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.
“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered.  “What’s boarding school like?”
“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true.  “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”
“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.
“Some,” he said.  “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”
“Like what?” you pressed.  “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”
“Oh, all the time,” he laughed.  “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly.  I mean, I never got caught, so…”
You raised an eyebrow.  “You smoke?”
He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble.  He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little.  “What?” he wondered.
“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.
“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone.  But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.
“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered.  He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.
He grinned excitedly.  “Right now?”
“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.
“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”
~
“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.
“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind.  “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”
You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.
You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.
“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.
When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you.  Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night.  No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.
You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.
You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything.  He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.
“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside.  “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers.  “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?” 
You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly.  “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.
You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end.  His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.
“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked.  “Or did college make you more rebellious?”
“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.
“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.
“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready.  “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”
He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.  
You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.
He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times.  You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.
“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.
He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “N-not really, no,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”
“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”
“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.
“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer.  He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.
You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face.  He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.
“Better?” you asked.
“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”
“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat.  You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?
After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier.  You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.
“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.
“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled.  “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”
“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.
“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.
“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.
“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.
“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement.  Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.
After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high.  You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence.  “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him.  “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”
“I did,” you mumbled.
“R-really?” he choked.  “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”
“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.
“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”
He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.
“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you.  “I’m eighteen.”
“You mentioned that.”
“Right.  Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that.  I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature.  At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you.  I can’t really compete with college guys…”
“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head.  “What are you competing for?”
“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.  
“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again.  “My attention?”
“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.  
“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car.  “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”
He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp.  “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.  
You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already.  You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time.  Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop.  He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.
His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back.  You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow.  It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.
You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it.  Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little.  What a polite boy.
“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips.  One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.
“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence.  He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.
Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser.  You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.
One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin.  “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg.  You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.
“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.
“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass.  You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t.  It was still Angus, after all.
In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did.  He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra.  “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.
You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.
He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.
He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response.  “Fuck, are my hands cold?  I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.
“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.
“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath.  You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.
Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them.  “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth.  You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you.  “Fuck, Angus—”
“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats.  He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.
You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully.  You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would.  You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t.  Not very much, at least.  Certainly not enough to stop you.
You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt.  “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach.  “We're really gonna—?”
“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.
He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.
“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”
You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression.  “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him.  “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”
“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.
Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch.  “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.
“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.
“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him.  He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.  
“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.
“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured.  “I can turn the light off if you want though—”
“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light.  “No, I still wanna see.”
You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly.  “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.  
He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.
“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge.  The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”
You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan.  “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him.  “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”
He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.
“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly.  “You feel so fucking good…”
He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.
A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you.  Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you.  “Did you… just come?” you asked.
He was still panting, his face starting to flush red.  “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly.  “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”
“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”
“Uh…” he stalled anxiously.  “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”
“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s cute, honestly.  I don’t mind being your first.”
“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted.  “I imagined it like this.”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car.  “Like this?”
“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed.  “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed.  And whipped cream—”
“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”
You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”
“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.
“No, they don’t care— please?  Please just keep going?  I’m still hard, I can—”
“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced.  “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright?  We just have to get back inside now.”
He lit up instantly.  “Really?  So we can— we’ll do this again?”
“If you want,” you shrugged.
“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort.  “Of course I wanna see you again.  I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”
“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.
You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.
Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead.  “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.
“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.
“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on.  “You ready?”
“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be.  W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”
You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask.  You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected.  Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming.  His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.
Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.
You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind.  “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.
“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”
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𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol
technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3
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The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening. 
The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground.  The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.  
It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.
The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer.  “Honey!  Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen.  She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade.  The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself.  She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.
Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.
Your parents were always really… energetic.  They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house.  To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…
“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.
“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.  
“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”
Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside.  “Wo-hoah!  You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…
As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.
He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something.  Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?  
“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.
“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.
Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily.  In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath.  He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church.  So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard.  It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it 
“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.
“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit.  He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…
“Let me make you two some drinks!  What are you having?”
He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now.  He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked.  He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.
“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen.  He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair.  She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”
“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied.  “I’ll help with the silverware.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them. 
“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand.  You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.
He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work.  “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”
“What?” 
“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed.  “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”
You scoffed a bit.  “And where should I put the opium spoon?”
“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing.  “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.
“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret.  Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…
“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up.  “Food’s coming out!  Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”
Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side.  “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.
“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted.  She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party.  She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.
And you.  She’d never mentioned you.
As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least.  He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.
Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence.  “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.  
“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy.  What have you been doing?”
“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.
“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.
Shit.  That illusion didn’t last long.  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”
You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was.  Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?
“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”
“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered.  “I graduated a semester early.”
“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great.  You’ve always been really smart…”
“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.
“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.
“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.
“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”
Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.
The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase.  He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet.  But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…
So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything.  Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him.  Now was it okay to look at you?
He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in.  He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.
“You look bored,” you noticed.
“Yeah?  I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.
“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered.  “What’s boarding school like?”
“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true.  “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”
“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.
“Some,” he said.  “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”
“Like what?” you pressed.  “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”
“Oh, all the time,” he laughed.  “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly.  I mean, I never got caught, so…”
You raised an eyebrow.  “You smoke?”
He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble.  He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little.  “What?” he wondered.
“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.
“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone.  But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.
“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered.  He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.
He grinned excitedly.  “Right now?”
“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.
“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”
~
“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.
“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind.  “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”
You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.
You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.
“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.
When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you.  Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night.  No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.
You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.
You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything.  He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.
“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside.  “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers.  “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?” 
You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly.  “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.
You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end.  His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.
“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked.  “Or did college make you more rebellious?”
“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.
“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.
“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready.  “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”
He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.  
You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.
He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times.  You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.
“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.
He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “N-not really, no,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”
“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”
“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.
“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer.  He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.
You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face.  He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.
“Better?” you asked.
“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”
“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat.  You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?
After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier.  You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.
“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.
“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled.  “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”
“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.
“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.
“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.
“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.
“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement.  Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.
After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high.  You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence.  “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him.  “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”
“I did,” you mumbled.
“R-really?” he choked.  “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”
“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.
“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”
He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.
“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you.  “I’m eighteen.”
“You mentioned that.”
“Right.  Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that.  I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature.  At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you.  I can’t really compete with college guys…”
“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head.  “What are you competing for?”
“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.  
“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again.  “My attention?”
“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.  
“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car.  “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”
He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp.  “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.  
You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already.  You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time.  Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop.  He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.
His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back.  You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow.  It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.
You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it.  Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little.  What a polite boy.
“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips.  One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.
“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence.  He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.
Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser.  You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.
One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin.  “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg.  You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.
“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.
“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass.  You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t.  It was still Angus, after all.
In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did.  He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra.  “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.
You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.
He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.
He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response.  “Fuck, are my hands cold?  I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.
“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.
“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath.  You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.
Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them.  “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth.  You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you.  “Fuck, Angus—”
“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats.  He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.
You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully.  You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would.  You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t.  Not very much, at least.  Certainly not enough to stop you.
You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt.  “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach.  “We're really gonna—?”
“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.
He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.
“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”
You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression.  “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him.  “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”
“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.
Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch.  “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.
“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.
“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him.  He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.  
“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.
“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured.  “I can turn the light off if you want though—”
“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light.  “No, I still wanna see.”
You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly.  “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.  
He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.
“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge.  The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”
You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan.  “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him.  “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”
He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.
“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly.  “You feel so fucking good…”
He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.
A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you.  Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you.  “Did you… just come?” you asked.
He was still panting, his face starting to flush red.  “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly.  “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”
“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”
“Uh…” he stalled anxiously.  “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”
“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s cute, honestly.  I don’t mind being your first.”
“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted.  “I imagined it like this.”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car.  “Like this?”
“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed.  “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed.  And whipped cream—”
“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”
You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”
“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.
“No, they don’t care— please?  Please just keep going?  I’m still hard, I can—”
“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced.  “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright?  We just have to get back inside now.”
He lit up instantly.  “Really?  So we can— we’ll do this again?”
“If you want,” you shrugged.
“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort.  “Of course I wanna see you again.  I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”
“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.
You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.
Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead.  “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.
“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.
“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on.  “You ready?”
“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be.  W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”
You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask.  You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected.  Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming.  His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.
Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.
You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind.  “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.
“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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i love tumblr glitches. sponsored message everyone
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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dreaming of a world where my boyfriend sejanus has to go out of town for something for a while so he lets me fuck his best friend coryo whenever i want as long as i call him and let him listen
Content warning . Threesome (?), use of sex toys, anal, praise & degradation, ‘daddy’ used like twice— 18++
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“Do you promise you won’t be long?”
It’s the same exact thing you say everytime to him. Sejanus, your boyfriend, the forever busy owner of the Plinth fortune, is constantly away. Your feet shuffle nervously against the hardwood floor of your shared apartment, still a shy, timid thing despite knowing that Sej will always be gentle with you. He smiles, his big hands stuffing ties and suits into his already overfilled suitcase.
“I promise, sweet girl.”
Your lips form into a pout. He says that everytime, but he usually takes a week, if not longer. Noticing your distaste, Sejanus sets his things down and wraps his strong arms around your middle. You rest your body against his, burying your face into his shoulder and inhaling. He smells like laundry detergent and soap, so unlike the other privileged men of the capital. Instead of expensive cologne or parfume, Sejanus lets himself smell as is. You’ve always loved that about him— it gives you a sense of comfort to know that he hasn’t allowed the Capital to change him.
“Hey,” he soothes, his hands coming up to cup your face. He kisses you softly on the nose. “It’ll be okay, angel. I’ll be back in four days, tops.”
You don’t say anything, and Sejanus continues with a teasing lilt.
“Coryo can take care of you.”
The mention of the familiar blonde makes heat creep up your neck.
Coriolanus— Coryo — is a pretty boy with icy blue eyes. He’s been Sej’s friend for years, and one of the only people that the brunette trusts. Perhaps that’s why the three of you have come up with this special arrangement.
You sigh, letting Sejanus rub comforting circles into your back. He kisses you, gentle with his tongue teasingly nipping at your bottom lip.
“Make sure to call me tonight, okay?”
And that’s how it leads to you being spread out, laying in between Coriolanus Snow’s legs. Your hands are curling into his platinum blonde locks as he thrusts a dildo in and out of your tiny pussy— all while he’s letting out a teasing chuckle, a cellular device placed right up against your mouth so Sejanus can hear your delicious moans.
You wish you could see Sej, feel his buzzed hair and his soft, muscular body. You want so desperately to drool on the heavy cock in between his legs, to let him use your mouth and your cunt. But he has a legacy to look up to, a future family to feed, jewels and dresses to buy his girl. And although you miss like crazy — Coryo isn’t Sejanus, after all — he still makes a fantastic substitute. So why not fulfill your needs if your boyfriend is okay with it? Better yet, suggested it?
Coryo had pressed the speaker button on the call, and now you can feel the wetness dripping down your thighs as Sejanus coos to you on the other line.
“Oh, baby,” he says, when he hears your tiny whimpers as Coryo pushes the dildo in and out of you. “Are you being a good girl?”
You feel Coryo’s lips brush over your neck. He smiles against you, watching the way your cum coats the toy in creamy strings.
“Bein’ so good, Sej,” You hiccup, bucking your hips. “Miss you so much, wanna feel you...”
You can hear wet noises sounding from the other line, a small groan emitting from the microphone.
“I miss you too, sweet girl. Miss you so so much,” he says. “What’s he got you doin’ huh? Is he stretching all those little holes good?”
Looking down, you watch as the dildo penetrates you, along with the jeweled butt plug inside your tight little ass. The dildo is thick, extremely girthy and long. God, it’s long. It’s a wonder it hasn’t bruised your cervix yet with the way Coryo is rapidly pounding it into you.
“He’s..” you stutter, watching as Coryo’s arm grips you tighter and he bites down onto you, hard. “He’s f-fucking me. With the dildo, th-the one that looks like you, sej.. feels so good.”
“Yeah?” He breathes out on the other end, and you can imagine the way he looks now: spread out on a hotel room bed, tie undone and his pants haphazardly unbuttoned. His hand gripping his thick member, moving up and down, up and down…
You’re snapped out of your fantasies when you feel Coryo’s bulge pressing against your lower back. Even though you love Sejanus, your mouth aches for the other man to slip his cock past your lower lips and pound you deep into the mattress with no remorse, no sympathy. It’s one of the things you like about this arrangement— whereas Sejanus is soft, worships your body with every kiss and thrust (minus the punishments you get one or twice a month week), Coriolanus feels no romantic attraction. It’s primal, hot, and filthy. Two different halves, complete opposites. But both of them fulfill your desires in each of their own ways.
Coryo’s voice rings out, low and throaty, when Sejanus asks him if he had prepped you first.
“‘Course I did, Sej,” he groans, annoyed. “Stop whining, she’s fine.”
“Don’t care,” you hear Sejanus grumble. “If I find out you didn’t prep her, Coryo, you’re in deep shit.”
“I did,” Coryo argues, pausing his movements on your aching cunt. You grind against it, trying to get more of that delicious grazing against your special spot. “Tell him, baby. Didn’t I prep you?”
You nod, and for your reward Coryo resumes touching you. But this time, he moves his fingers down to play with the jewel sitting prettily between your cheeks.
“He did, Sej..” you start, trying not to whimper at the feeling of the plug being twisted around inside of you. “He used his fingers, his tongue, got me nice and wet…”
Sejanus shakily lets out a reply, and you let out a small yelp when Coryo teasingly pulls half of the anal plug out of your entrance.
“Yeah?” Sejanus says. “Were they as good as mine?”
“No!” You keen out, and you know it’s the truth and you know it’s exactly what Sejanus wants to hear. Not only is this a way to help you, but it’s also a way for Sejanus to show off and prove his own talents. He doesn’t mean to do it, per se, but— when it comes to you, Sej can get possessive and he can get egotistical about the way he fucks. And maybe, just a little bit, it’s because he strives for his best friend’s approval. His intelligent, highly influential best friend, the Coriolanus Snow.
But that doesn’t matter right now, not really. Because Coryo is slipping out the plastic cock sitting hot inside you and he’s turning you onto your side.
You comply easily, lifting up your leg like a bitch in heat. His tip probes at your hole, warm and dripping. He places the phone right next to your face, Sejanus’ voice purring hotly in your ear.
“Dick’s so hard listening t’you, honey,” he groans throatily. “Can’t wait to get home and pound all those pretty holes.”
A small mewl leaves you, and Coryo’s tip pops into you. It’s thick, not as thick as Sej’s, but it still makes your eyes roll back and your hips buck back into him.
“Want it so bad,” you breathe, and when Coryo begins to move inside you your hand reaches back to grasp his thigh. “Fuck, Coryo, please. Need more..”
“Beg for it, darling,” Coryo says, and you want to scream. “Come on, don’t be a brat. Do I need to spank you?”
Your gut twists at the thought of Coryo’s punishments.
“No,” you whimper out, stilling. “No, Cor, ‘m sorry.”
“Be nice,” you hear Sejanus warn from the other line. “She’s delicate.”
“No she isn’t,” Coryo quips, his cock moving roughly in your walls. “She likes it. She likes getting hurt. That’s something you need to come to terms with, Sej.”
You can hear an annoyed sigh sound from the other line. Sejanus ignores his comments.
“You fuckin’ her now?” He asks. Coryo’s cockhead slips out of your gaping hole and back in again at a rapid pace. The way Sejanus says it so carelessly, as if you aren’t even there, makes your eyes roll back.
“Yes,” Coryo replies, his nails digging crescent moons into your hips. “Shit, she’s tight. How is she still so fucking tight?”
“Mmm. She’s always like that. Like a rubber band.”
“It’s cute,” coryo grunts. “She still gets split open no matter how hard you stretch her out.”
You become pliant under Coryo’s thrusts, brain fucked out and all you can think is SejanusSejanusSejanus. The plop plop plop sound of Coryo’s balls slapping against you makes you let out the most unholy sounds.
“You with me, baby?” Sejanus says, his tone soft. The way he knows you so well makes your tummy flutter with butterflies.
“Mmmh..” you whine out, disagreeing. Because it’s true. He isn’t here, and you need him now more than ever.
“I know,” Sej moans out, his voice laced with arousal and something else entirely melancholy. “I know, honey. Gonna be home real soon, okay? Gonna fuck you just like you deserve.”
Coryo’s hands go up to push you onto your stomach. He grabs your wrists, pins them behind your back, lifts up your ass with his big hands. You mewl, tears streaming down your cheeks, letting him use your hole as Sejanus lets out throaty groans through the microphone. Coryo’s hand comes down harshly on your ass cheek when you squirm against his grip.
“Stop fucking moving,” he rasps, his fingers gripping your cheeks harshly. “Or I’ll use the fucking paddle.”
Sejanus, too far gone with how aroused he is, lets out a loud, guttural moan through the phone.
“Fuck…”
Tears stream down your face, and you mutter out a soft, “yes sir”. Your cunt aches and drools around Coryo’s thick length, pussy lips spread tight around him. It’s comforting, but not comforting enough. You need Sejanus.
“Sej..” you whine out, and Coryo’s fingers move down to rub your clit harshly. You let out a desperate mewl.
“Right here, sweetheart,” Sejanus whimpers out. “Daddy’s right here.”
You can’t help but seize up at the title you gifted him a long while back that you only use on special occasions such as this. Coryo’s harsh rubs on your clit are making you tread closer and closer to your high.
“It’s so good,” you cry, fucking your hips back onto Coryo. Sejanus lets out a breathy laugh from the other line.
“Yeah? Is his cock filling that tight pussy up? Makin’ you feel good, baby?”
“Yes..” you whine out. “So good. Feels so good.”
Sejanus grunts.
“Gonna cum, baby,” he replies, and you can hear the wet sounds of his cock getting louder. “Gonna cum all over that sweet fucking pussy when I get back.”
“Please, daddy, need you to cum! Pleasepleaseplease…”
With a moan of your names spilling out of his lips, sweet, high, and orgasmic, Sejanus lets go. You hear him let out those angelic sounds signaling his release. Thinking of it— his big, girthy length dripping spend and his fucked out face— makes your orgasm fall over you in powerful waves. Coryo chuckles, watching as you fall apart underneath him, squeezing his cock like a vice.
“Mmm,” coryo hums, stilling. You let him pull out of you when you come down from your high, and he lets out a shaky breath when he sees your cunt. His fingers twist around the anal plug, gently pulling it out. Lube coats your rim, and when Coryo sees your gaping asshole he lets out an intense moan.
“Cmon,” he directs, pulling your limp body towards him. “Hold it open for me, baby, be a good girl.”
You obey, arms weakly moving around to spread your cheeks for him. His tip prods at you, teasing around you. When he sinks in, you let out a squeal.
“I know,” he coos, almost mockingly. “I know, pretty girl, look at that. Tight little ass is sucking me in.”
“So much..” you whimper, your face hot.
“I know, sweetheart. Just a little bit more.”
Coryo moves in and out of your ass at a rough, harsh pace. He would love to cum in your pussy— really, he would. But Sejanus only allows him to cum inside your ass— says that your cunt is only for him.
Not that Coryo is complaining, of course.
Sweat drips down his temple as he fucks into you like a madman. Your fingers grip the sheets, your little legs shaking. Sejanus coos out little praises to keep you grounded, and for a second you can pretend he’s here. You clench around Coryo at a particularly dirty sentence, and he grunts, his hips beginning to stutter.
“Gonna fill up this tight ass. That what you want? You like being a slut for your boyfriend’s best friend, huh?”
You let out a mewl, keening against Coryo when his cock spurts warm, wet ropes inside you. He presses flush against you, lets you milk him for everything he has, and when he slows he rests against your back.
“Done?” Sej asks from the other line. Coryo replies, a gruff “yeah” leaving his lips. When he pulls out of you, you curl up on your side. You’re exhausted.
You watch as Coryo slips on his pants and his belt, then his shirt. He brushes back his blonde curls as he looks at himself in your mirror. And sweetly, he places a kiss to your forehead.
“Thank you, baby.” He murmurs to you. “Do you want me to run you a bath before I go?”
Coryo is quite gentle with you. Not only because Sejanus would kill him if not, but also because he genuinely cares for your well being. You shake your head, limbs feeling like desert sand. You want to talk to Sej, and then you want to sleep.
“Okay,” Coryo replies. “I’ll see you… in two days, maybe? Is that okay?”
You show off a small smile.
“I’d love that.”
When Coryo leaves, the room smells of sex and perfume. You let Sejanus know Coryo’s gone, then you both talk about his trip— what he’s seen, who he’s doing business with, the cute pair of silky pajamas he got you. And that night, when you sleep, it’s less lonely.
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ higher with my lover — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞
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☆ Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, handjob, mentions of blood & blood sucking, Capitol! Reader, reader is mentioned to be a virgin, mentions of poison and death, district+lucy gray slander (necessary to the plot), mention of Sejanus, degradation & praise kink if you squint, dry humping | lmk if I missed anything!
☆ Pairing: fem! Reader x young! peacekeeper! Coriolanus Snow
☆ Summary: Lucy Gray left but you find him in the forest instead and shit goes down
☆ A/N: this fic is inspired by the fact that i imagined myself to be the one sucking the 'poisoned bite' and be like now we both die and i like you lmao, i hope you guys like it!
Ps. This is the official canon ending :D
Ps². Listened to this song mainly to write the smut, so i am just gonna leave it here. . .
| masterlist | taglist | bc: @cafekitsune |
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“Lucy Gray! Are you trying to kill me!?”
Coriolanus Snow yelled as he kept pointing the gun in random directions. It wasn't long after that he began shooting in the sky causing the murder of numerous mockingjays up in the air.
He had found the necklace, he had found the scarf. She left. She was a loose end. She needs to die, fucking die so Snow could have the life he deserved. The life he worked for, the life he was entitled to since birth. The life of a Snow.
“Lucy Gray! We can talk about this!” He yells out, “Just come out!” But Lucy Gray was nowhere to be found, as if she was a ghost. As if she was the Lucy Gray from the song, a mystery to never be found.
He pointed his gun in the direction where he heard the sound of a twig snapping. It wasn't Lucy Gray but you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving as you slowly walked towards him with your hands raised. “Coryo,” you whispered, scared, your feet walking towards him with hesitation but never flattering.
He had no idea how you had found him. He wasn't sure why you were either here. It was already too much for him that Sejanus came (and now he is dead, dead, dead. The third person he had killed). And you followed him too, pulling in favors, deciding to be a medic along with Sejanus, serving time with your best friends (not his, he never considered you or Sej as his friend).
“Where's Lucy Gray!?” He yelled, walking towards you, gun still pointed. It makes you walk backward until your back hits the hard bark of a tree. The rough texture of the bark is uncomfortable due to your thin shirt. You scrunch your nose at the mention of her. You never liked her much. He didn't know why but perhaps it was all a ruse just for this very moment. This very betrayal from her.
“How would I know?” You scoffed, the haughty attitude of a Capitol citizen coming through despite having a gun pointed at you. He pressed the end of the gun at your chest. “Tell me the truth,” he growled. “That girl tried to poison me. Tell me where she is!”
“I don't know,” you hiss back, your eyes ablaze. “And get the gun out of my face. You should be heading to a fucking medic right now. Are you sure she poisoned you?” Your voice was now laced with concern, eyes softening as you looked at him, his t-shirt clinging to him with sweat, his cheeks flushed, eyes so wide that the blues were hidden with black instead.
Coryo gets the gun away from you to put his arm forward. Showing you his snake bite, the puncture wound oozing out beads of red blood on his snow-like skin. “It's probably non-poisonous,” you said, trying to sound optimistic.
“No, it's not!” He growls, and anger fills in every movement and word of his. “She's trying to kill me. She's district! I shouldn't have- shouldn't have-” You hold his arm, your fingers around his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.
“It's fine,” you whispered, trying your best that the tone you use with him is soft and gentle. You want to shake him out of the mental breakdown that was happening. He shakes his head and you press your fingertips into the wound.
“It's fine,” you whispered, “let's get you back. Come on.” You try to urge him forward, only for him to pull himself out of your grasp. “No! I need to find her. She's a loose end. She will tell. She's a snake, not a songbird,” he rambles.
Despite the confusion you felt with his words, you grit your teeth. “Come on, Coryo! We need to head back,” you said, your hand on his wrist, trying to drag him out of the middle of the green forest.
“No! We need to find her out before the poison works” he yells, pulling you back and pushing you. Pinning you effectively between him and a tree.
You glare at him before a moment of impulsivity takes over you. You take his arm, your mouth around the bleeding wound and you suck letting whatever ‘poisoned blood’ onto your tongue. His eyes widen as he sees the redness of his blood now painting your lips. “Now can we go back?” You said as you licked the blood clean. “Because if it's poison, we will both die.”
“Why would-” he visibly freezes. He doesn't want your blood on his hands. No- it would be on Lucy's hands. It's her fault. Everything is her fault. “Why would you do that?” He whispered, leaning closer to you, his face now mere inches away from yours. It was like he was seeing you for the first time. Like he never saw you for you until now. Someone like him. Unhinged (not that he's willing to admit it).
He hooks his fingers under your chin, holding your jaw and tilting your lips towards his. His eyes were searching for sanity but seemed to have found none as a smile (filled with insanity) spread on his face. “You're crazy,” he whispered, “Are you that desperate?”
“Desperate for your well-being, Coryo,” you whispered, hating the fact that your gaze fell on his soft-looking lips. “I don't know what's wrong, Coriolanus. But come with me, let's go back. Lucy Gray isn't worth anything.”
“Lucy Gray is worth everything!” He yelled, pressing his body with yours, pain in your bones flaring as he without noticing crushed you.
“I am sure she will have poison for you too. I am sure she will come back then,” you spit out. You felt outrageous at his behavior. “She ran, didn't she? To the North. You gonna go there too, Coryo?” you questioned, your eyes now meeting his. You try to find an answer but find something deeply tangled instead, neither a yes or a no.
You never felt such pity for Coriolanus Snow before as you did now. You put your palm on his cheek. “Come with me,” you said, softening your voice. “Back to the peacekeepers, the general told me about District 2 and I can put in favors so we can be back in the Capitol in no time.”
“You didn't choose Sejanus,” you whispered, the mention of Sej causing him to freeze. “Choose me,” you plead, feeling pathetic for being reduced to this. But it was for your Coryo so it was worth it. Wasn't it?
A chip from the bird makes him look away but you use your hand to make him face you again. Tears begin to pool in your eyes. You find your heart preparing itself for a rejection. “Choose me,” you choke out, a sob in your throat ready to come out when he says no, no, no Lucy Gray it is, never you.
You wait and wait for the rejection, your eyelids closing themselves so he doesn't see himself (or the way you looked at him with love) in the reflective tears. “Look at me,” he whispered, feeling his hot breath on your lips now. And you didn't want to listen but your eyes opened back up, light coming in and he's in your sight.
All glorious as you always thought of Snow.
Snow lands on top.
Haven't every Capitol child learned that from history? You were no exception. And you never planned to be. Even after finding out the truth about his situation, you never thought less of him, if anything everything you felt about him increased tenfold without your consent. Oh, how you should hate him. Oh, but how much you love him.
He leaned in and you didn't move. He stops for a mere second as if reconsidering his decision. But then decided to fuck it because the next thing you know his lips against yours.
He tasted like cheap alcohol, he tasted like ruin and danger. You ate it all up by parting your lips so his tongue could slip in. You let out a moan as his teeth bite into your lips. For a moment you think he's a snake and that he's the one poisoning you. His poison is more potent than an actual snake’s ever could be.
You were simple prey, that's it. Instead of a bullet, he was shooting your heart with a kiss. And it was working because in the future he will be the end of you. A slow, slow poison, he controlled the kiss despite the way his tongue slid against yours was clumsy but so perfect.
You kissed him back to the best of your abilities, wondering briefly if you tasted like the pastry you had in the morning. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth to suck and bite however he wants. Your hands find his buzz cut instead of his golden curls and a whine leaves your lips from the frustration of the loss.
Your hand is on his nape and another is still on his cheek as neither of you breaks the kiss. It didn't matter that you were getting lightheaded. It didn't matter that you could feel your heartbeat increasing due to lack of oxygen. He was everything, you would be damned if you broke the kiss.
You gasp as the kiss is broken. You stare into his eyes, searching for something, anything. But you find nothing but ice blue. It sent chills down your spine but at least he had calmed down now. “Feeling better?” You asked and you got a rough nod as a reply.
“Come on, we have work to do,” he whispered as he pulled back. His dog tag dangles as he begins to walk towards the cabin again, navigating the path with his father's compass.
You find the cabin and the guns. Coriolanus looks at you waiting for a protest, disgust, expecting you to run away just like Lucy Gray. You didn't do anything except sigh, your shoulder wearing down as you realized the truth of it all. You didn't say a word but your hand finds his. He doesn't say anything either but squeezes your hand back. An unspoken promise. He had chosen you. You had chosen him. You were in this together now.
There's no going back.
Both of you row the boat and let the guns sink into the river, never to be found again. You find your way back to the cabin, the rain pouring down again. You sit beside Snow- no, no, still Coryo. Always Coryo. Your head on his shoulder, your knees pressed to your chest as you hear the tip tap of rain outside.
Not a single sound is made. But as time passes and the rain doesn't stop, you begin to crave his lips again. As if that one kiss was morphine, and you needed more to heal the ache of your soul. “Coriolanus,” you whispered.
“Coryo,” he reprimanded softly, his tone enticing as if he was trying to bewitch. You feel your palms sweat as embarrassment begins to nag your mind. You blurt it out before you can think about how pathetic you sound.
“Can I have another kiss, Coryo?”
The next few moments were a blur. Lips on lips. Clumsily tongues meeting each other and whining into each other's mouths. You were shamelessly grinding on Coryo's lap as your lips continued to stay locked with his. “I want you so bad,” you admit as you feel his cock harden underneath you.
“Since the academy,” you whispered against his lips, a moan escaping your lips when he held your hips and began to guide them to grind on his completely hard bulge.
“Oh, yeah?” He mocks, “It's pretty fucking obvious.” He choked off a groan coming out of his mouth, “You're willing to let go of the fact that I am a murderer, huh?” You let out a whimper as he mentioned that. But both of you knew the answer to that, a part of you knew what kind of predator he was. Ever since you knew about how he killed a tribute, you just called it. It never mattered to you how horrible he could be or in this case, is.
“Yes, yes,” you moan into his mouth. Was it an answer or a mere whine about how perfect the friction felt against your pantie-soaked pussy? You didn't know but Coriolanus thought of it as the former. “You gonna be my girl, then? A capitol princess being a peacekeepers’ doll to fuck,” he whispered, his tongue licking a strip of skin on your neck.
You moan as his teeth begin to harshly assault your skin, covering your neck with marks. “Yes,” you gasp, “as long as it's you.” God, how much more pathetic could you be? But it didn't matter, it got him higher and fed his ego after everything that had happened. He loved it and perhaps, he could grow to love you.
Not in the way, Coryo loved Lucy Gray but in the way Snow would love his First Lady.
Your hands tug off his wet t-shirt and throw it on the floor. His hands do the same with your peacekeeper's uniform. He grabs your hips, squeezing the plump of flesh there, his mouth panting into you and he looks at you with dilated eyes.
Time seems to have slowed down as you touch his dog tag, your fingers tracing the name carved into the metal. “I want this. You, right now, right here,” you whispered like it was the biggest secret of your life. “Do you?” You ask as your hands go lower to fiddle with the zipper of his pants.
He doesn't give you a verbal answer, only pulling you into another kiss with his fingers woven into your hair in a fist as his free hand goes down below to free his cock from the confines of his trousers.
You grip his length, stroking it and squeezing out pearly pre-cum from the tip. You savor the deep groan that leaves his lips. “Fuck… just like that, doll,” he instructed and you obey. Your strokes get faster and his pre becomes natural lube as you continue. He lets out a hiss when you twist your wrist and his hand snares around your wrist. “Wanna cum in your cunt first,” he said, breathless from the ecstasy of having your hands on him.
Within moments the remaining clothes on both of you were scattered around the cabin. You moan into his mouth, your fingers desperately clawing at his shoulders as you begin to grind your soaking wet pussy against his hard cock. You gasp, elated by how your folds pressed against his length, his cockhead being teased by your slit but unable to breach the threshold.
The kisses you shared with him were sloppy. Saliva coating his chin as neither of you was willing to separate your lips for a single unnecessary moment. You knew your lips would hurt by the end of this, that they were swollen and the inside of it bleeding because of how insistently his teeth loved to bite your lower lip. He was no better either. You tasted more blood from the kisses now than anything, and it didn't matter to you because somehow the salty, rusty taste felt like just him.
You let out a sound unfitting of a Capitol-raised woman when his cockhead slips inside your gummy walls. His tip now profusely leaks pre-cum inside your gummy walls. You pulled back, biting your lower lip to stop the whimper as you feel his cockhead stretching out your virgin walls.
“That's it, dove,” he lets out, all needy and heated. His hands squeeze your hips to be encouraging as you let yourself down on his cock slowly. “Take it all in. You can do it, doll,” he whispered, as his eyes were down looking at his length entering you, being surrounded by the wicked, addicting warmth of your tight cunt.
“I can?” You let out a whine, as the pain bleeds into the pleasure, the ratio of it throwing you off the dizzy full lust. He hums in encouragement as you finally fill yourself with his dick to the hilt. Your slick walls pulsate around his length.
“Atta girl,” he smiles at you, his eyes brightening up from how well you took him and without any complaints whatsoever. “That's a good slut,” he whispered and smirked when he felt your walls clench around him deliciously.
You tried to move your hips but gave up when the burn made your eyes water. He coos at you encouragingly, telling you to adjust to his girth first. He wasn't going to rut into you like a dog, you're a Capitol girl, not a district whore. He wasn't going to disrespect you like that, no matter how much he wanted you to begin rolling your hips.
So your lips latch onto his neck, while your arms are around him and your legs around his waist. You were clinging to him, as if afraid that if you ease up in your grip he will fade away from your life, from this moment and your reality together. The smell of sex and sweat begins to become stronger than the smell of gunpowder as you continue to give him hickeys in various places on his skin.
Coriolanus doesn't complain that you're marking him like this, not when he's doing the same task with his tongue tracing the love bites his teeth left. And you suspect he rather enjoys when you bite, as his cock twitches whenever your teeth dig into his flesh as if you're eating and your wet tongue licks over the bite as if you're tasting the flavor of his skin.
When you're finally comfortable with his cock being inside the most intimate part of you. You slowly but surely begin to make small, shallow thrusts that have you gasping, your eyes rolling back with how good it feels already because he was fucking into your g-spot with every roll of your hips. The thrusts were teasing, it had him groaning praises of you being a good girl and his hold tightening over your hips, surely leaving bruises.
You begin to relish the feeling of being stuffed, his cockhead kissing your cervix when you get the angle just right. Your folds coat him with your creamy juices, a ring of white forming on his base with how wet you were. Slowly but surely the pleasure begins to build up, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to put up force with the way you rock back and forth on his cock.
You pant into his mouth, your lips letting out sharp moans when his dick strokes your walls just right. He lets you control the pace, his mouth busy latching onto your nipple to suck. His tongue swirls around the bud, hardening it inside his mouth and he nips your nipple just to have you jolt from the bite and squeeze down on his cock.
One of his hands now kneads the other breast he wasn't giving much attention to, his fingers rolling the nipple, pinching the bud, and playing with it. His other hand goes between your bodies and finds your clit. You soon realize he was working with a pattern that was driving you insane, turning your cunt into a hotter slicker mess.
When he swirled his tongue around your nipple, his fingers did roll the other bud. Meanwhile, his thumb would drive small, rapid circles onto your swollen bundle of nerves. When he bit into your nipple, his fingers pinched your clit making you gasp with thunderous pleasure filling your veins.
He continues at this and tension begins to build up in your tummy. You close your eyes as animalistic instincts begin to take over your body. The need to cum overrides everything else as you begin to roll your hips faster and harder. Desperate to cum around his cock for the first time of many times in your life. He feels the same way because he encourages you with his hips bucking into you, thrusting perfectly inside of your slick walls.
“So close, Coryo!” You moan, your nails leaving red lines in their path on his shoulders. He latches off your breasts to whisper, “Cum then, my slut. Let me feel you milk my cock like a good cockwhore would.” You let out a louder moan at his words. His condescending tone snaps the tension that had formed in your tummy, you begin to cum.
Your pussy spasming around his cock, triggering his orgasm. He empties his balls inside of you without any hesitation, filling you up with his thick, hot cum. “That's a good girl. Look how well you took me. Look at the cum leaking out, dove,” his tone teasing, like many times he has teased in classes but the context of this was entirely different.
You look down, your pussy clenching around his cock again when you see his seed ooze out of you. Your body slumps into him, tired from all of this. Both mentally and physically. The storm was still going on. You lay in his arms, his cum now coating the insides of your thighs.
“You're smarter than Lucy Gray,” he said, “I pray you know better than to run. I won't miss the next time.”
You shake your head, trying to hide the smile forming on your face. Others would have run from his words, anyone sane would. Lucy Gray did after all. But you were just you.
“If I wanted to run, I wouldn't have found you in the first place,” you whispered, sealing your words with a soft kiss on his lips.
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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Any takers? Please, any takers?
I'm still looking, even if it's just someone to bounce ideas off on.
Okay, so, straight up I haven't written anything new because I spent the last few hours re-reading and editing, which I'm having a hard time with. That brings me to the topic of this post, which is 🥁:
I'm looking for someone who's willing to work with me and edit this fic for me (mostly just for my spelling mistakes and me missing words when I think I wrote them down, but I didn't). Here are some things to know if you're interested,
1. There's a lot of smut involved in this fanfiction, so you would have to 18+ and not be uncomfortable reviewing/editing the sexually explicit writing.
2. It's a Coriolanus Snow x reader fic, so you would have to have watched tbosas 💕🕊.
3. This thing is gonna be really long. So far, I have nearly 8,000 words, and I'm planning on writing 3 more sections and an epilogue.
3. I try to write every day, but I'm on kinda weird hours, so sometimes I write a lot in a day, or sometimes I'll only jot down a few 100 words of ideas.
Anyway I think that's it, My messages are open, please let me know and you're interested and we can discuss the details. In return for editing, I will, first of all, credit you for your hard work (editors are God's strongest soldiers), second I'll give you my eternal gratitude and get down on my knees and sing the praises of my kindhearted, talented, amazing, super speacial new editor! And third of all, maybe, possibly you'll like my writing/plot? Who knows? Wouldn't you like to find out? Am I peaking your curiosity? Are you annoyed that I'm asking this many questions? Well, that's all for now. I hope some of you consider helping your old pal Strawberry out and I hope we can bond over our mutual horniness for Coriolanus Snow.
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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coriolanus’ world !
☼ fluff ☽ smut (17+) ☁︎ suggestive (17+) ϟ dark content (18+)
note: fem! and gn! labels are given based on the use of pronouns and anatomy; fem! fics use 'she/her' or labels such as 'girl' as well as explicit fem anatomy, GN! has no use of gendered pronouns or labels and anatomy is ambigious
coriolanus snow likes to chase and claim his prize ☁︎ ϟ fem!
coriolanus still likes to chase indoors ☁︎ ϟ fem!
giving coriolanus head ☽ GN!
tricking coriolanus into submitting ☽ fem!
virgin!coriolanus pretending to not be affected during his first time ☽ fem!
coriolanus kisses like he's trying to breathe you ☁︎ GN!
coriolanus' dog tags dangling in your face ☽ fem!
coriolanus' possessive kink kicks in when it comes to your virginity ☁︎ GN!
sneaking around the university with post!tbosas coriolanus ☁︎ GN!
in coriolanus' mind, fucking you fixes every problem ☽ GN!
lake days and oral with coriolanus ☽ GN!
peacekeepers coriolanus and sejanus sharing you ☽ fem!
attempting to get coryo to stay and cuddle with you and sejanus ☼ GN!
taking coriolanus and sejanus in the same hole ☽ GN!
(post) peacekeeper!coryo fucking you, dr. gaul's daughter ☽ fem!
having heard about face sitting, coriolanus has a proposition ☽ fem!
thanking peacekeeper coryo after fucking ☽ GN!
study motivation from coriolanus ☽ fem!
coriolanus is pissed at tigris, so he takes it out on her lover ☽ fem!
coriolanus making you, a capitol brat, ride him with no help ☽ GN!
cowboy!coriolanus ☼ GN!
coriolanus lets you cut his hair and you like to mess with him ☼ GN!
coriolanus hates to be called his full name ☁︎ GN!
coriolanus pretends he hates to please you ☽ fem!
having coriolanus whimpering under you ☁︎ GN!
newly non virg coriolanus obsession w you ϟ GN!
drunk love confessions with coriolanus ☽ GN!
coriolanus gets talked through it vs talks through it ☽ GN!
tutor!coriolanus who's pretentious, but needs you ☽ fem!
coriolanus wears your purity ring after taking your virginity ☽ GN!
coriolanus is capable of fluffy moments, too ☼ GN!
virgin!academy!coriolanus and his requited crush ☽ fem!
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ worries — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞
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☆ Warning: NSFW | pinv sex, creampie, cum eating, blowjob, orgasm control, overstimulation, loss of virginity (m.), handjob, mutual masterbation (each other) if you squint, riding, spit play, breath play, reader has fem! anatomy, mentions of blood & blood sucking (from a lip bite)| lmk if I forgot anything
☆ Pairing: afab/gn! soft dom(-ish)! Reader x sub(-ish)! virgin! Coriolanus Snow
☆ Summary: uhm, you take Snows' virginity <3
☆ A/N: first time writing gn reader, please be respectful and tell me if anything's wrong, but don't be mean about it and i finally wrote reader spitting in Coryos' mouth and it should be a regular thing, look AT him ugh, a meal fr, wanna eat him, suck off all of his cu- i should stop...
Ps. The one who requested this to be gn, i hope you like this and i did it justice, if there's anything wrong (like accidentally refering to the reader as fem) then please let me knw :)
| masterlist | taglist |
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“You've never done this before?” You questioned as you entered his room. All cold and dusty stone with a bed on the corner. The bed in which you plan to do unspeakable things with him.
“No, he said, “Will that be a-” You shake your head as you see his wide blue eyes waiting for rejection. He hated that he brought you here. He hated that you saw him. Him. Not Coriolanus Snow from the academy but Coryo who tries and tries but gets fucked over anyway.
After finding out that the District 12 girl was his, he wanted to protest, he was being set up to fail. You saw him for he is, his mind filled with worries, endless thoughts running around making him unable to breathe. He felt invalid and he needed you to do something about it.
And as you notice him among the crowd, seduce him with your eyes and whisper your desires to him. He brings you to the penthouse, trying to control the urge to apologize as you have to walk 12 cases of stairs.
You knew his secret like the dean did but you didn't do anything about it except for the meals and clothes sent to him anonymously during the coldest nights of Panem but he didn't know that.
You walked towards him, pinning him to the door of his room with a gentle thud. “You don't have to worry about anything, princess,” you whispered to him, your eyes filled with lust and your lips twisted in a teasing smile. You run your finger over his sharp jaw, taking joy when a soft gasp comes from him. His breathing is getting faster and the blood rushing from his cock and his head turning empty from your simple touch.
You were going to have some fun with this boy. You're going to make him yours. Make him forget and help him through everything as his now serrah. Even if it means rigging the games so he would win. It's your job to care for him now and you're a perfectionist.
The first task, let the wide-eyed man feel pleasure in someone's touch for the first time. You tsk in dissatisfaction as your fingers feel his bony chest. He needs to eat, he needs to be pampered. ‘I'll have to fix that’, you thought as you pressed your lips on his collarbone. He lets out a breath, his body heating up from the kisses you plant on his chest. Your tongue teasing his nipple causes him to whimper and you earn a broken moan when your teeth decide to nip the bud.
You suck his nipple, savoring the gasp he makes and how his fingers wove into your hair. “Please. Please more,” he groans and who are you to deny him? You couldn't say no to his pretty face even if you didn't want to. So you get down on your knees, pushing your face into his crotch and you swear you could smell the heady scent of his pre-cum soaking through his trousers. You moan, deciding to tease him as you use your teeth to pull down his zipper. You'll never know the will it took for Coriolanus not to cum right then and there.
You take down his trousers, the line of his hard cock clear in his boxes, a wet spot of his pre-cum formed where the tip is. You decided not to tease him words but with actions, your tongue licks the wetness, letting your saliva sweep into the fabric along with his salty pre. He groans above you, a thud echoing into this room as the back of his head hits the door.
You set his cock free from its confines, your mouth watering as you look at the pink tip forming a bead of pearly white pre-cum. The tip of your tongue catches it and the pleasure (or torture) of Coriolanus Snow begins.
You start simply, teasingly as your lips trail sloppy wet kisses all over his length. Your tongue traces along the pretty veins of his cock, your lips reaching his base and mouthing his cock causing him to let out a needy whine and a plea of more, more and more. You repeat the process until you catch his cockhead inside of the carven of your warm, wet mouth. Another broken groan leaves his mouth as he sees your lips stretch around his mushroom tip.
The fingers of his curled in your hair tightens and as a warning you make your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs causing him to his and immediately loosen his grip on you. An apology falls from his lips, his eyes glossing over as he feels his dick getting wet. Your mouth begins to suck his tip. Your tongue savors the bitterness of him as you swirl your tongue around his slit, lapping up as much as possible.
Meanwhile, Snow was biting his lower lip as hard as possible, the blood pooling in his mouth as he tried to keep much of his sound quiet for the sake of others who might be home. His mind was blank, all he could think was how pretty you looked on your knees like this, how you took control despite the one kneeling. You didn't even take all of him, sucking his cockhead diligently but the rest of his cock was left out. He was glad that did so because he knew he couldn't take the hot, wet mouth of yours all over his cock without cumming on the spot.
He could feel himself venture too close to spilling inside of your mouth, he let his free hand venture down to the path and he gripped the base of his cock trying to ruin his upending orgasm.
You take your mouth off him, making him let out a desperate whimper as he feels his dick out of your warm carven. You raised an eyebrow at him, feeling utterly amused by how adorable he is. You kiss his tip. “Trying to last longer, baby?” You questioned with a teasing tilt in your voice.
“I don't want to” Snow can't admit the fact he doesn't want to cum so soon, it's embarrassing so he says it in different terms, “I want this to last.” His eyes were now fully blown with lust, his curls clinging to his forehead and his cheeks painted red with pleasure.
“Hmm,” you hum, standing up trying to ignore the slight ache of your knees. You take his hand, guiding the boy to bed before pushing him on the mattress. You straddle him, his shirt was long forgotten on the floor along with the rest of his clothes. It was your turn now and you quickly did the same. Coryo lets out a needy soft noise as your skin is exposed to his eyes, his fingers skimming along the curves of your body. “Can I?” He asked, his eyes begging for your agreement.
“Yes, Coryo. You can,” you permit him and you nearly let out a wanton moan as the heat of his fingertips sweeps into your skin, warming you up as his hands experimentally begin to knead your breasts. His fingers squeeze your nipples making you softly moan near his ear. “That's it, baby. Make me feel good.” You whispered to him, “A bit rougher- ah- ah- there you go. That's a good boy.”
His hips jolt forward when you praise him and a whine escapes from the back of his throat. “Please,” he lets out, “Let me feel you. I will be good, I promise.” You gaze wonders at his angry red tip and you decide not to play with him any further for the moment. You kiss his forehead for a moment of vulnerability in all of this tension. “Okay, my prince,” you whispered as you kissed his lips next, letting your tongues meet in a rather filthy and sloppy kiss as you let him guide you to your back on the mattress.
His hand traces down and gets a hold of your hips, his fingers squeezing the flesh a tad too hard but it felt so good and the fact he would leave marks didn't bother you. Your fingers wove into his blonde strands, bringing him down to catch his lips in an open mouth kiss. As your other hand is on his shoulder, his body pressed onto yours and you moan into his mouth as you feel his comforting weight on top of you. His dick twitched against your thigh, leaking pre-cum onto your skin.
You take in his bleeding bottom lip in your mouth and suck on it, enjoying the tang of the metallic taste on his tongue as he clumsily begins to press his cockhead into your soaking cunt. You were so focused on Coriolanus that you had forgotten about your aching cunt begging to be stretched with his cock.
If it hadn't felt so good when his cock slid right in because of how wet you were, you would have been embarrassed. You bite into his lower lip, trying to adjust to the burn of being stretched by his thick cock. If you weren't so impatient, you would have taught Coryo how to prep you first but that's for another day.
Coryo feels your teeth sinking into his bottom lip and a wanton, surprised moan leaves his mouth, his balls emptying and thick spurts of his cum flood into your pussy. You cry out as you feel his cock cumming against your pulsating walls. He buried his head onto your shoulder as he gasped his apology. As much as frustration filled your mind, you knew that you had to be gentle with your plaything.
You run your fingers through his hair, comforting him. “It's fine,” you whispered, your lips placing soft kisses on his shoulder. “But I don't want it to be over,” he admitted, shyness and desperation filling in his tone. “It doesn't have to be,” you replied as you squeeze your walls around his softening cock. A wicked smile plays on your lips, as you whisper, “It isn't over until I say so.”
He nods, willing to agree with whatever you say. You pushed him off you, getting yourself on top of him as his soft cock fully slips out of your pussy, leaving the entrance pushing out of his cum. Your fingers gather his seed and you pop your digits into your mouth, your tongue lapping up his taste off your fingertips. His dick twitches from the sight, coming back to life as Coryo lets out a whine while he looks at you sucking your fingers so good with your mouth hollow.
You take his length in your hand, fingers surrounding the girth in a perfect fist. He hissed when you squeezed and began to stroke him slowly. Trying your best not to overwhelm him and failing miserably because tears were pooling in his eyes, his lips were parted to leave wounded, pretty sounds. His fingers curled on the bed sheets as you stroke his cock back to life.
You lean to press another kiss to the tip, your eyes peering at his teary ones. “You sure?” You asked, you had to pat his cheek for an answer because all that left his mouth as you questioned was a whimper.
“Do you want to continue, Coryo?” You asked, in the softest tone possible. Your mind is ready to cuddle him for aftercare and draw a shower. But instead, he shakes his head, “Don't please- I need this.”
“Okay, I won't,” you whispered back, your lips pressing a wet kiss to his cheek, and then let the kisses trail until you reach his neck where his pulse is. Your mouth begins to suck as you continue to stroke his length, your fist now covered with his drooling pre-cum, a bit more watery than before.
Your free hand goes to your cunt, your fingers rubbing your clit to feel some relief from your aching pussy. Coriolanus notices that and can't help but feel bad. His fingers wrapped around your wrist stopping your movements, a silent question in his eyes and you removed your hand in answer.
A giddiness could be seen in Coryos as he explores your cunt for the first time. You get into a position where it is easier for you both to play with each other. He spreads your pussy lips, his eyes taking in your glistening cunt (with your juices and his cum). He swipes at your folds, gathering the wetness all over his digits, and you encourage him to take the digits in his mouth, and of course, he agrees.
He will do anything to get his head empty and his body to be jelly. So he takes his fingers in his mouth, letting his tongue lick every remnant of your juices and his bitter cum. He groans, his eyes getting cross stared and his cock begins to throb dangerously in your end. He was close to the edge again by such a simple thing.
‘Cute’ you thought, but you don't want him to cum again without getting something in return. So you stopped the strokes, ignoring his confusion, and pleas for more. Instead, you guide yourself on his cock again, your eyes flashing to him with a warning that despite the gentleness you had shown, you could be cruel too.
Yet when you sink on his cock, you make sure to hold his hand, fingers intertwined for comfort. You murmur endless praises to him.
“That's a good boy.” “Look at you filling me up so well.” “Ah- fuck, baby. Your cock is stretching me out perfectly.”
Each praise made his cock throb against your pulsating walls. This time he didn't cum immediately, but the jolt of electricity that went through his veins when both of your pelvis bones were touching, now joined to the hilt felt like he did. You take the hand you were holding and kiss the inside of your wrist with butterfly kisses.
These simple actions of yours were overwhelming to him. No one had cared for him so delicately like he was glass. It meant everything to him and a rush of emotions caused tears to begin to flow from his eyes.
You chalked his crying to overstimulation and leaned forward to kiss his eyelids. “It's okay,” you whispered against his ear, “It's okay, Coryo.” You let out a soft moan as you begin to move your hips. Slow and shallow thrusts. You hear him groan too, his hand squeezing yours. His free hand on your ass, groping the flesh.
“That's a good boy,” you whispered when you began to speed up your rocking hips making Coriolanus gasp. “You're doing so well, my dear,” you praised him. You moan as your hips find the perfect angle to hit the spongy spot in your gummy walls.
You begin to ride Coryo in earnest. His cock stroked the deepest part of your slick walls with each thrust. It makes you see stars with each breath you take. It was perfect and you made sure that Snow knew that with your hushed praises. Meanwhile, Coriolanus wasn't better off either with molten lava in his body, his mind now blank with how good getting dick wet felt.
He never understood the hype about sex but now he was addicted. He was sure he was going to need you like air, like a puppy going for a pet to its owner for comfort. He was going to need you after this, again and again.
He was close, wanting to cum again, he could feel how wet your walls were and wondered if it was your juices or his own that contributed to it the most. He was close so he voiced that. “I am-” he closed his eyes, feeling the burn of embarrassment, “Close.”
You hum in response, stopping your movements to catch a much-needed breath. “You're not allowed to cum until I say so, pretty boy,” you said with authority, “I let it go the first time, now I expect you to behave.” You add, “You'll cum with my permission or else. . .” You smirk, “You're a smart boy, Coryo. You wouldn't like punishment, would you?”
Coriolanus shakes his head, he sniffs and you find it adorable how his nose scrunches up that it makes you smile at him. “I will be good, I promise,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Please.”
You give him a nod. You leaned down to kiss his lips, both of your tongues tangling together into something soft. Your hand leaves the grip it had on his hand to wrap itself around his neck. He moans inside your mouth as you put a bit of pressure onto his neck, not restricting his breathing but certainly making him light-headed. It worked as a good distraction.
Your free hand goes between your bodies and you find your clit. Your fingers begin to play with the bud. Small circles send jolts of pleasure to your core, making your cunt tighten around his dick. It made his hip snap back into yours, a deep groan resounding in the room as his hips began to thrust into you. Just small movements of sheer desperation of wanting to cum.
You were feeling the same, desperation clawing your body as the tension keeps building and building each time his cockhead grazes your g-spot. You were so close and everything turned sloppy.
Two animals in heat it seemed with how the two of you were acting. Your fingers pinch your clit as you begin to rock on his cock faster than ever, deep groans leaving Coryo's lips and his hands holding onto your hips to ground him as he takes whatever you give.
He was pussy drunk, his eyes glazed over and mouth drooling on the corners. You were pathetic enough to lick the saliva, holding his jaw open as you gathered your spit inside your mouth and then you let the goop of drool fall onto his tongue.
You thought for a moment this would snap him out from his fucked out glaze, except he swallowed it without a word, his hips stuttering in the pace and he mutters, his lips glistening, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” And god, that ruined you.
Your cunt begins to spasm around his cock, flexing walls around his length causing him to cry out for permission to let go and you yell out a yes. Liquidy spurts of cum begin to shoot out of his tip and inside your womb. Both of you let out a moan as the thrusts begin to slow down and cease.
As soon as you catch your breath and your body feels solidified, you caress his cheek. “Would you like to cuddle, baby?”
The answer to that was a breathless yes.
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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but you haven’t seen my man
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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innerstrawberrypolice · 3 months
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coriolanus’ world !
☼ fluff ☽ smut (17+) ☁︎ suggestive (17+) ϟ dark content (18+)
note: fem! and gn! labels are given based on the use of pronouns and anatomy; fem! fics use 'she/her' or labels such as 'girl' as well as explicit fem anatomy, GN! has no use of gendered pronouns or labels and anatomy is ambigious
coriolanus snow likes to chase and claim his prize ☁︎ ϟ fem!
coriolanus still likes to chase indoors ☁︎ ϟ fem!
giving coriolanus head ☽ GN!
tricking coriolanus into submitting ☽ fem!
virgin!coriolanus pretending to not be affected during his first time ☽ fem!
coriolanus kisses like he's trying to breathe you ☁︎ GN!
coriolanus' dog tags dangling in your face ☽ fem!
coriolanus' possessive kink kicks in when it comes to your virginity ☁︎ GN!
sneaking around the university with post!tbosas coriolanus ☁︎ GN!
in coriolanus' mind, fucking you fixes every problem ☽ GN!
lake days and oral with coriolanus ☽ GN!
peacekeepers coriolanus and sejanus sharing you ☽ fem!
attempting to get coryo to stay and cuddle with you and sejanus ☼ GN!
taking coriolanus and sejanus in the same hole ☽ GN!
(post) peacekeeper!coryo fucking you, dr. gaul's daughter ☽ fem!
having heard about face sitting, coriolanus has a proposition ☽ fem!
thanking peacekeeper coryo after fucking ☽ GN!
study motivation from coriolanus ☽ fem!
coriolanus is pissed at tigris, so he takes it out on her lover ☽ fem!
coriolanus making you, a capitol brat, ride him with no help ☽ GN!
cowboy!coriolanus ☼ GN!
coriolanus lets you cut his hair and you like to mess with him ☼ GN!
coriolanus hates to be called his full name ☁︎ GN!
coriolanus pretends he hates to please you ☽ fem!
having coriolanus whimpering under you ☁︎ GN!
newly non virg coriolanus obsession w you ϟ GN!
drunk love confessions with coriolanus ☽ GN!
coriolanus gets talked through it vs talks through it ☽ GN!
tutor!coriolanus who's pretentious, but needs you ☽ fem!
coriolanus wears your purity ring after taking your virginity ☽ GN!
coriolanus is capable of fluffy moments, too ☼ GN!
virgin!academy!coriolanus and his requited crush ☽ fem!
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